


Family of Trees

by starsandsands



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-25
Updated: 2010-06-25
Packaged: 2018-12-26 08:10:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12054864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandsands/pseuds/starsandsands
Summary: Sixteen years after their parents' death, Bob invites his long-lost siblings to his wedding. Featuring a small town bakery, couch potatoes, teen angst and true love.





	Family of Trees

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Bandom Big Bang 2010.  
> 

March 13th, 1990

 

Bob had woken up to the phone ringing non-stop. His parents were still out, so he decided that they must have had something to tell him. Years later, he wonders that if he hadn’t answered the phone, maybe things would have changed.

“Mom?” 

“This is Wendy, from Mercy Hospital and Medical Center. I’m calling about Dean and Roberta Bryar.”

“Those are my parents!” he exclaimed.

“Okay sweetie, how old are you?”

 “I’m ten and three months.”

“Is there an adult there? Or a relative we could call?”

“No, I’m babysitting my brother and sister. And we don’t have any more relatives since Grandpa died. Why are you asking?”

 “Your parents got in a terrible accident. A drunk driver smashed into their car. Your father… didn’t make it. And your mother is in a coma.”

 “What? No. You’re lying. They were just going to the movies. We bought a pizza! They were here only a few hours ago.”

 “I wish I were lying, honey. We’re going to send some people from the state department to your home, ok? They’ll take you to the hospital so you can see your mom.”

 “You can’t be serious.”

 “I am. Hon, I have to ask you your address. Is it still-” the lady on the phone kept talking and all Bob could do was meekly say “yes” a few times. His mom and dad were just in the same foyer, laughing and smiling. His dad gave him a ten for pizza. His mom had kissed him on the forehead. There was no way they were gone.

 A while later, he doesn’t know if it was minutes or hours, someone knocked on the door. He checked the peephole, just like his dad taught him to. A frowning lady with frizzy hair stood in the doorway, ducking out of the rain. “Who is it?” he calls out.

 “My name is Eliza Monroe. I’m with Child Protective Services. I’m here to take you and your siblings to the hospital, and then a place to stay for the night," the woman said.

 “Show me some identification,” he replied, thinking back on the few episodes of _Law and Order_ he’d seen staying up late when he was supposed to be sleeping. She pursed her lips, then reached into her bag and pulls a card out of her wallet. She showed it to the peephole, and after confirming that she was who she says she was, Bob opened the door.

 “All right, honey, I know it’s a shock that your dad is gone and your mom's not far off. But we’re going to get you to the hospital and then a place to stay.”

 “We can stay here! They let me babysit Trisha and baby Spencer,” Bob protested. Eliza just tilted her head to the side and frowned again.

 “Can you go get Patricia and Spencer?”

 “They’re sleeping right now, I’m not s’posed to let them be up past seven.”

 “I know, but this is a special circumstance. Can you get them up and ready to go? I’ll come with you to help.”

 “Sure.” They walked up the stairs to wake the sleeping children. 

~

 Patricia can remember Bob shaking her awake. “Wake up, Trish. We gotta go.”

 “Where?” she mumbled sleepily.

 “To the hospital. Come on, just put some shoes on, we have to go,” Bob was frowning and a woman with wild hair and frown lines was standing behind him. She didn’t dare argue, he was ten years old, practically a grown up. She dressed hurriedly and he left to Spencer’s nursery. Trish could hear Spencer grumble about the hour, and Bob murmured soft words to him. She still had trouble tying her shoes, so she put on the sandals Daddy had gotten her last weekend when they went to the big store. It felt weird wearing her Princess Ariel nightgown and her glittery shoes, but neither Bob nor the frizzy lady (who identified herself as Eliza) batted an eyelash at the attire.

 The next few moments were a blur of strapping her and Spencer into their car seats in a shiny dark car, and then whizzing off through the night. The hospital was white, blindingly so. The nurses that rushed them through were kind but Trish didn’t fully understand what was happening until she saw her mom lying peacefully surrounded by white. The fluorescent lights buzzed angrily, flickering as Trish climbed on top of the bed, white sheets scratchy like sandpaper under her skin. Mom didn’t move, and her face was pale. Part of her head was wrapped in a bandage, like the ones on TV. Trish turned around bewildered, shouting, “Where’s Daddy?” 

 ~

  _Sixteen years later…_

 Spencer dreams about being thrust into the brightest white ever after black, silent darkness. A pair of wobbly arms grip tight around him and a little girl wails at the top of her lungs. A somewhat familiar woman is lying deathly pale on a hospital bed, the girl clutching at her corpse. He looks up at the boy holding him, whose eyes are filled with tears and he can feel some of his own forming.

 A woman with an evil smile takes him away, and he’s lost forever.

 He wakes up in a cold sweat, heart pounding in his chest. Brendon is poking at his side, worriedly. “Are you okay?” Spencer just nods, and Brendon crawls into the bed with him, stroking his back as he sobs.

~

  _Dear Spencer,_

_I know it may have been a surprise for you to receive this letter, but everything you are about to learn is completely factual, though it has been hidden from you most of your life._

_First of all, you are not who you think you are. You were born Spencer Dean Bryar, on September 2nd, 1987 in Mercy Hospital, in Chicago, Illinois. Shortly before your second birthday, you were adopted by James and Ginger Smith, whom you now call your parents. You were not abandoned by your biological parents, nor were they in any legal or financial trouble. Instead, you were orphaned on March 13th, 1990, when your parents were killed by a drunk driver._

_How do I know all this? I am your older, biological brother, Bob. I was ten when our parents were killed, so I remember you and our sister Patricia, though you may not recall us..._

Bob sighs and crumples up the letter he was writing. Ray looks over from where he's sitting upright on the bed, flipping through a guitar catalogue.

 "Bob, come to bed. The right words aren't going to come to you if you don't get any sleep."

 "It's just- I've been looking for him all my life, and he doesn't even know I exist. It's not fair! I have to tell him soon, or it'll be too late, and he'll become... embittered or something!"

"Have you been reading Gerard's books again?" Ray asks, and after Bob sheepishly admits to it, he continues, "Don't rush it. It'll be a big shock to find out his parents have been lying all these years. You have to be delicate about it."

 "I guess you're right." Bob sighs again and switches off the desk light. "You truly are my better half," he says after he swivels the chair around and crawls into bed with his boyfriend. 

  _~_

 Patricia Stumph is not having a good day. In the middle of the night, her boyfriend turned off the alarm clock “in order to get some fucking sleep, Trish.” She was woken this morning by the manager calling in to tell her she was fired, and needed to return her uniform. She barely has enough time to put on clothes before she has to rush to campus, for her 10 a.m. Feminist Literature class. She doesn’t bother to look out the window before leaving, so of course she is running a few blocks in the rain without a proper coat or umbrella.

 She finally arrives at the lecture hall, panting and soaked, and sitting in her spot is the bitchy British girl that Trish caught flirting with Pete the other week. The only available seat within hearing distance of her soft-spoken professor is behind the group of annoying tall guys that talk all class. She barely gets any notes down when all she can hear is the group talking about the Composition 346 professor's ass.

 When the lecture is over, William, one of Pete’s obnoxious friends, corners her about a party going down over the weekend. She finally gets away, assuring Bill that she’ll tell Pete about it. She’ll do no such thing, but Bill doesn’t have to know. Her phone rings during Flowers’ class and she gets kicked out of the hall because the professor is a stickler about cell phones. It turns out to be Pete, asking where she hid the Lucky Charms. She calmly reminds him that he finished them off last night before going out, and he argues with her for another ten minutes about something else completely redundant.

 When her day is over (and after she buys an extra large box of Lucky Charms at the grocery store), she checks the mail. She smiles when she sees that she got a letter from her biological brother, Bob. They’ve been writing since her eighteenth birthday, and she can’t wait to hear about what is going on with his life. She tucks it in the inside of her sweater, deciding to keep the secret of her adoption from her boyfriend just a little longer.

 

~

 Bob and Ray’s house is close enough to Main Street that they walk to work. After Bob’s shower and fifteen minutes in the bathroom getting ready, he grabs a cup of coffee and walks to his bakery, in the dark chill of the early morning.

 It’s a nice place, with a cozy store front and a roomy kitchen. He’s always the one to open and close the shop, as he is the first to arrive and the last to leave. After finishing his coffee, he puts the dough he prepared the night before in the oven and moves the older goods from the glass case to the “bargain” shelf.

 One of his assistants, Darren today, comes in around five-forty, to help him get the shop ready to open at six. They work in a pleasant silence, putting fresh bread, cookies, rolls, and muffins in their proper places. After Darren sweeps the shop front and Bob wipes down the counters, Darren flips the sign “open” and busy commuters slowly but steadily trickle in for breakfast.

 Bob goes to the back, to check the still-baking foods or look over his taxes until seven-thirty, when Chris comes in to keep an eye on the kitchen. Ray comes into the bakery around eight-fifteen every morning, and Bob chats with him as he hands his boyfriend a cheese-filled croissant and a cup of black coffee. Ray pecks him on the cheek and then crosses the street to the music store where he works. Bob usually stays in the back to fill out paperwork, or test new recipes, but on the rare occasions when he goes to front, he can almost always spot Ray, hard at work, selling guitars or doing manager-like things.

 Darren gets a break at ten-twenty-five today, so Bob mans the register and watches Ray across the street, in between customers. The morning rush is long gone, so he has a notebook to write in if something inspires him, when Ray is in the back or teaching lessons. Darren comes back at eleven-thirty, which is when Ray and Bob simultaneously take their lunch break together.

 Bob grabs a loaf of French bread from the back, and then visits the deli next door for some meat. Ray meets him in front of his store, and they walk to the park and make sandwiches on one of the picnic tables. They laugh as they eat and hurry back to their shops for the lunchtime rush, which subsides around one-thirty.

 Darren gets off after the lunch rush is over, and Other Bob (or “Morris” as everyone refers to him), comes in. Chris leaves after making three batches of cake batter, and the Bobs close the shop at six. They make the next day’s dough, and Bob catches up on more paperwork before leaving at seven-thirty.

He goes home, eats dinner with Ray, watches a bad sitcom with his dogs, and falls into bed. 

~

Spencer gets the first letter during Winter Vacation. One of his chores is to get the mail, and normally when he flips through the pile, it’s all bills for his parents, random magazines, or flyers from desperate colleges in need of a higher student population. But when he sees his name and address scrawled out in blue pen, underneath one of those cutesy return address stickers with puppies and the name of the letter-writer, a Bob Bryar from New Jersey, he knows it is different.

He carefully tucks the envelope inside the music magazine Brendon ordered subscriptions of for his last birthday, and then at the bottom of the stack, and walks back up the pathway to his house. They live in an older neighborhood, with individual mailboxes instead of a big metal one for a large portion of the street. The houses all had grass yards at one time, before most of his neighbors converted to desert landscaping, which Spencer’s dad says adds to the quaint charm of their cul-de-sac. Spencer has been pleading with his father to make the switch, citing environmental reasons, but mostly he just hates mowing the lawn.

His sisters are watching tv with his mom as he steps inside. Crystal complains about the weather, and Jackie yells at him to shut the door before letting the heat out. (It’s been unseasonably moody this winter, the wind blowing clouds around and the temperatures varying from the mid 70’s to the upper 30’s, though snow is never in the forecast.) They’re watching a serial killer special on E!, something about supermodels being killed, and he can smell his dad cooking something cheesy.

Spencer walks into the kitchen, drops the stack (except for his magazine and letter) on the kitchen table, and then climbs up the stairs to his bedroom. He sits on his bed, and starts to open the letter, but his mother calls him down for cheeseburger casserole. _The letter will be for another time then_ , he decides, and shoves it under his bed. He flies down the stairs to see Brendon sitting at his kitchen table, mouth stuffed with a sandwich.

~

 Bob is trying to come up with animal product alternatives to use in his future line of vegan cupcakes when Ray walks into the bakery. Bob can tell it is Ray, because there is a Ray-shaped shadow over the notes he has carefully taken. Bob can also feel Ray’s fingers on his back, and he’d know those fingers blindfolded and underwater in the dark. “What do you want, Ray?” he asks, and turns around when he hears a coughing sound. “Holy shit.” Almost half the town is crowded into his tiny bakery. There are balloons.

 Bob is maybe hyperventilating, a lot.

 “Robert Nathaniel Corey Bryar,” Ray starts and Bob just counts his breaths, trying not to die. He delivers a lengthy speech, about houses and love and their dogs and _dear god_ he takes a discrete black velvet box out of his pocket and Greta has a huge bouquet of roses in her hands and Gerard is smiling at him all big and shit and Ray pauses. “Will you marry me?” he finally asks, holding the ring up for Bob to see.

 “Y-yes, of course, Ray!” Bob stammers out and the nervous grimace on Ray’s face turns into a huge grin. Ray grabs him in an awkward hug over the counter and Bob kisses the side of his face before breaking free. He walks around the counter and holds his hand out for Ray to slip the slim gold band on his finger. Bob grabs Ray again and kisses him, roughly this time, until all they can hear is the beating of their hearts and the panting of the breath. “I love you so much,” he breathes, and then notices the whoops and hollers from their friends.

 “Thank you guys!” he says to them, and then they descend upon the happy couple.

 Greta’s gushing about how romantic it is at the same time Gerard is asking about the date and Ian is blathering on about an engagement party. Bob can hardly discern any of the conversations, but he’s never been happier to be so busy in his life.

 ~

The letter is kind of a big shock to Spencer. He doesn’t know if he should trust the information in it, so he googles it. Bob Bryar really does own his own bakery in a tiny New Jersey town. The name of the private detective is legitimate, and when he looks up the people who Bob claims are his biological parents, he finds a newspaper article about their tragic deaths. It takes a bit longer for him to finally work up the courage to sneak into his parents’ files. While they are sitting in a filing cabinet in the office just off the den, he doesn’t want his parents to know what he is up to. So, late at night, he sneaks out of his room and into the office. He digs through the folders inside until he gets to one with his name printed neatly on it. Inside is his birth certificate, and he is shocked to find that it says “Spencer Dean Bryar” instead of “Spencer James Smith”. He sits there, staring at the folded paper for what seems like forever, until he sees something else in his file.

Adoption papers.

 Multiple questions run through his mind as he scans the documents. Why had his parents never told him about his adoption? Did they ever plan on telling him about it, and the biological siblings he had seemed to lose? Did this affect how they felt about him in relation to his sisters? Were Crystal and Jackie adopted too? He sits in the office until he sees streaks of sunlight peeking in through the blinds. He feels numb, and while he can hardly think of anything else but his parents’ deception, he knows he can’t let them know about what he found out. Spencer carefully puts the files back where they belong and gets up, stretching. He barely makes it back to his room before he can hear the familiar sound of his father’s feet softly padding down the hall and the stairs. Spencer drops onto his bed and falls asleep without another thought. 

~

When Trish gets home, after a long day of job-searching, she finds another letter from her brother in her mailbox and her boyfriend glued to his computer, typing frantically. The letter goes into an empty box of tampons under the sink (Pete wouldn’t dare to look in _there_ ), and she plops onto the couch next to him. 

“Hey, sweetie,” she says and tries to get closer to him. Pete turns the screen so she can’t see anything and continues typing. “What are you doing?”

“I am advising a young soul on his troubled life,” Pete replies, completely serious.

“Oh, is it your internet boyfriend?” Trish teases, and Pete stiffens, looking up at her over the screen.

“No,” he finally stammers out, and then continues whatever he is doing. Trish sighs and gets up off of the couch.

“I’m going to take a bath, is that okay?” she asks, and he just nods vaguely.

Trish reads the letter as she bathes and when it includes a detailed description of Ray _proposing_ she can’t help but squeal a little.

“Are you alright in there?” Pete asks, tapping on the door.

“Yeah, there was just a- a spider. It was really tiny. Don’t worry, I got it,” she lies, and he actually accepts the lie.

“Just hurry up in there, I gotta piss,” he adds before she can hear him turning back to the living room, and the steady tapping of keys continues.

She sighs, and resolves to be more careful in the future. Pete is a pretty chill boyfriend, but he hates it when she talks to someone he either doesn’t know or like. She gets out of the tub and pulls the plug to let it drain while she hides the letter again. She gets back into the tub and turns the shower, washing her hair quickly, wincing at the cold water. She must have used all the hot water in her bath. Trish gets out again, wraps a towel around her body and leaves the bathroom.

Pete rushes in after she leaves, and she sees his computer screen move. Curious, she leans in to see. It’s an AIM conversation, between Pete (pweezy69) and some unknown person (grr182).

> **pweezy69:** but while im waitin how bout a pic
> 
> **pweezy69:** herd u got a new cam 4 xmas
> 
> **pweezy69:** ;)
> 
> **grr182** : ty 4 it btw
> 
> **grr182:** here u go - > http://i40.tinypic.com/rh4mpz.jpg
> 
> **pweezy69:** lol i lyk ur style
> 
> **grr182:** ty I lyk urs
> 
> **pweezy69** **:** brb
> 
> **grr182:** ok
> 
> **grr182:** brb 2

 Pete sent a stranger a camera? Trish is tempted to click the link, but she doesn’t have enough time, as she can hear Pete’s footsteps. She rushes down to their bedroom, and sits on the bed, realizing she probably dripped all over the couch, snooping on her boyfriend. She sits still, until she realizes he is probably too engrossed in his conversation with grr182 to actually care.

~ 

Spencer’s reply to his brother- it feels weird even thinking about the fact he has a _brother_ \- is short and simple, stuffed into a envelope taken from his father’s desk, and stamped with a stamp swiped from his mother’s purse. They’re not even his _real_ parents, anyway, what does it matter?

Still, things grow extremely awkward, especially with Ryan stuck to his computer, probably talking to some perverted old guy with breathing problems. He hasn’t really been around as often, and with less Ryan, there is even more Brendon. Brendon has always practically lived at Spencer’s house, but now it is even more apparent. Spencer’s mom- adoptive mom, he corrects himself- doesn’t say anything, and just puts Brendon on the family chore roster. His secret is kind of hard to keep, and with Brendon pestering him every five seconds, Spencer is ready to flip.

“Spencer, what’s wrong?” Brendon asks him, one day after school starts up again.

“Nothing is wrong,” Spencer replies, gritting his teeth. Brendon is sitting dangerously close to a reply from his brother, and he is trying to figure out how to get him away from it.

“Something is wrong, Spence, I know it. I can _feel_ it,” Brendon says, scooting closer to him on the bed. Spencer sighs in relief that Brendon won’t find the letter that he has yet to read, but then realizes the predicament he is in.

“Look, Bren, everything is fine-” he gets cut off by his phone ringing.

“Who is it?” Brendon questions.

“It’s Ryan,” Spencer answers, then flips open his phone. “Hey, Ry, what’s up?”

“Will you come outside for a second? I gotta talk to you.”

“Brendon’s with me, can he come?”

Ryan sighs on the other end, but replies with a tentative, “Sure. Just, hurry.”

They race down the stairs, and Ginger tells them to “Slow down, or you’ll get hurt!” Sure enough, Brendon slips and hits his funny bone on the stair rail, but undeterred, they continue to Spencer’s front yard, where Ryan is sitting in the slowly dying grass.

“What’s up, Ryan?” Brendon says, grinning like whatever they are about to be told isn’t going to be completely serious. Ryan rolls his eyes, but beckons them to come closer with his arms. They follow his directions, and then he speaks.

“I’m transferring to Chicago for my spring semester," he says, uncrossing his legs.

“You have got to be kidding me!” Brendon exclaims, but Ryan shushes him.

“You can’t be serious, what if this Pete guy is like 40, and a pedophile and-” Spencer adds, slumping down on the grass next to him, Brendon quickly following.

“I’m 19 years old, Spencer, I can make my own decisions," Ryan says, and when he sees Brendon's mouth open, he adds, "And besides, I’m not just going for him."

“Oh yeah, then what _are_ you going for?”

“Well, the schools in the Midwest are so much better than the ones here,” Ryan says with a pointed stare, and continues, “Also, for my health. I would love to live in the Windy City, it would help get my respiration rates up.”

Brendon's mouth opens and closes as he tries to collect his thoughts. “Okay, that is utter nonsense. First of all, Chicago is even the windiest city in the US. That’s in like, Kansas. And Vegas is a lot windier than Chicago," he finally blurts out.

“Not really, they don’t call Vegas the ‘Windy City’.”

“Do you remember the time you got knocked over by the wind, and flew five feet when we were cutting through an empty lot to get to Big Lots? If you moved to anywhere windier, you’d have to put weights in your shoes," Spencer recalls, and Ryan's glare is mutinous.

“Not true-”

“And also, the wind spreads around pollen particles. Particles that you are _allergic to_ ,” Spencer interrupts.

“Well then, I’m moving to a place less windy for my health. So I don’t get thrown into the air by a tornado-”

“It wasn’t a tornado, just a particularly strong gust of wind.”

“Shut _up_ , Brendon. Also, I have always aspired to see the Great Lakes.”

“You never have-”

“Drop it, I’m moving to Chicago, and you can’t stop me," Ryan says, finishing the conversation by standing up and walking back towards his house. 

~

“Ray?” Bob asks, feeling ridiculous. He shouldn’t be nervous about this.

“Yeah?” Ray is sitting at the table, rarely-worn glasses perched on his nose as he punches numbers into the calculator.

“Can we invite Trish and Spencer to the wedding?” Bob blurts out, before he can get too tongue-tied.

Ray looks up from his business calculations, with a worried look on his face. “Of course we can. Did you think I was going to say otherwise?”

“No, it’s just-”

“You don’t need permission from me to invite your family to our wedding. All of my cousins are coming, and you know how many of them there are.”

“I know, just-”

“Oh, are you being nervous about inviting them? Don’t be, they’ll definitely accept. Trish has been writing letters with you for years, and Spencer has got to be curious about everything.”

Bob sighs, gets up and presses a kiss to the top of Ray’s head. “I love you.”

“I know.”

“Whoa there, Han Solo.”

“You’re too big to be Leia, though,” Ray smirks at him, and Bob grins. “I love you too!” he calls as Bob leaves the room.

 ~

 Brendon has been nagging Spencer for what seems like forever, and his persistence may have worked out. This is only because Spencer is tired, and Ryan is gone, and there is so much stress on him, that he feels like breaking down.

He finally does, in the grungy bathroom at the mall, and he feels ridiculous when Brendon has to cart him out of the stall to prevent him from hyperventilating. He takes in Spencer’s red eyes, and the tears dripping from his nose, and pops a pair of girl’s sunglasses on to hide them. “We can talk about this later, but for now, you have _got to stop hiccupping,_ ” he says, and Spencer nods soberly, trying to take deep, calm breaths. Brendon pats his hand, and a dirty skater in a tattered Misfits tee is looking at them funny, but Spencer doesn’t care. 

Finally, when Spencer’s face has de-puffed enough that no one could tell that he’d been crying, they stroll out of the bathroom. Brendon buys him some Dip N Dots, and even though it’s even darker in the mall with his sunglasses, Spencer is glad he has them on. They sit on a bench outside the automatic doors, and Brendon shares his headphones with Spencer as they thaw out from the extreme air conditioning of the inside.

Eventually they search out Brendon’s car (on loan from his mother), and get inside. With the a/c blasting and windows rolled down, they make their way home.

“Thank you,” Spencer says, as they roll up their windows before turning onto their street. Brendon’s mom calls it “wasting gas” when they have the air conditioner on and the windows rolled down, and rolling the windows up gives them at least a sense of privacy.

“Are you ready to talk about it?” Brendon asks, as they pull into his driveway.

“Yeah,  but, I-”

“You didn’t get a girl pregnant, did you?”

“What? No!”

“There are no drugs involved in any of this either. If you’re trying to quit meth and having withdrawals or something, you always know you can tell me, though I don’t know how much help I could be. I think the church has a program for addicts and-”

“Oh my god, it’s nothing like that, it’s just-” Spencer’s carefully rehearsed speech is interrupted by sticky fingers knocking on the window.

“Are you ever coming out of there?” Jackie asks.

“Maybe never!” Spencer shouts back at her, but he’s grinning underneath the bug-eye sunglasses that swallow his face.

~

Trish is rubbing the sore spot on her shoulder from the huge bag she’s had to carry around, all freaking day, and answering her brother’s letter, as best she can, when there’s a knock on the door, followed by a shout. She glances at the clock, and sighs when it reads 2:30 pm. Pete left the night before at 6:30, promising it’d be an early night. She gets up, puts on a brave face as she pads over to the door of their apartment and peeks into the small glass hole in the door. Pete’s standing there, with his clothes rumpled, his hair mussed and a mark blooming on his neck. He knocks again, shouting at her to let him in.

Trish sighs again, and opens the door. The grin he flashes at her is a bit manic, but her heart warms when she sees what’s behind him. A new guitar! She practically dances, but as Pete wouldn’t approve, she just smiles at him, and opens her arms wide, as if to hug him. He prances into her arms and plants a sloppy kiss on her mouth.

“Where were you?” she asks, once he’s gotten settled back in, and she’s opened her gift. “You said you’d have an early night.”

“I had to pick my friend up from the airport, and then we met this really awesome dude who owned like, a music store _chain_ and then we got totally wasted and we crashed at his place. He decided to give me a guitar half-price when I woke up, but we had to break into his store, because he’d lost his key. We almost got arrested, but when the police saw his ID, they just laughed and took us to IHOP for lunch.” The slight limp in Pete’s step speaks otherwise, but he got her a shiny new Gibson to add to her guitar collection, so Trish ignores it this time.

“I love you,” she proclaims after playing around with the strings a bit.

Pete grins up at her, like she’s the moon, so she tries to forget how much he smells like sex. It doesn’t really work, but she can drown out the distaste with the sound of her new guitar, plugged into one of her many amps. She almost doesn’t notice that he doesn’t return the sentiment. Almost.

~

Spencer and Brendon are sitting on the patio in Spencer’s backyard, drinking iced tea in awkward silence.

“I- I was adopted,” Spencer blurts out, and a little tea dribbles out of Brendon’s mouth.

“What?” he asks, choking.

“Ever since Winter Break, I’ve been writing letters with my biological brother, Bob.”

“Are you sure this all checks out? What if it’s all a big lie and-” Spencer cuts Brendon off with a glare.

“I’m not stupid, I made sure to check it all out, before I believed it.”

“How?”

“Well, I googled everything he said, and it all checked out-”

“You can’t always trust the internet!”

“-and then I checked my file in my dad’s office. There were adoption records in there, with my name on it.”

“Oh my god, Spence, I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be,” Spencer says, and they look in opposite directions

“Can I ask what happened to your r-biological family?”

“My parents were hit by a drunk driver, but there’s a lot more than that.”

“What do you-” Spencer’s mom knocks on the glass of the door, hoisting a large pitcher of iced tea. Spencer sighs, but smiles at his mom, after a quick look at Brendon to tell him not to say any more. Brendon nods, and Mrs. Smith refills their glasses.

“So what are you two boys talking about?” she asks, happily.

“We’re talking about our plans for the future, college and stuff,” Brendon quickly lies and Spencer feels indefinitely grateful to his best friend.

“Ooh, how exciting! Have you decided on anything? Well, other than that ridiculous New York idea. What about Nevada, or ASU?” she chatters, obviously not paying attention to her son.

“We were just discussing the pros and cons of everything, nothing too committed,” Spencer says, his glare mutinous.

“Sounds good. Now, you two have fun!” Mrs. Smith goes back inside.

“I’m buying tickets to go visit him, in June,” Spencer says after a few more minutes of quiet.

“What?”

“He’s getting married, to this wonderful guy, Ray. And my sister, Trish, will be there too.”

“You can’t go!”

“That’s not for you to decide, Brendon.”

They’re quiet until dinner, where they both put on fake smiles. Spencer’s been doing it so long that it feels almost natural to him, but Brendon looks like he’s about to crack.

“Mom, can Bren sleep over tonight? We have a big project for Government.”

“Sure thing, do you want me to ask Grace?”

“No, we’ll ask her when we go over to get his stuff.”

“I’m pretty sure Brendon has left some clothes around here. He does have his own toothbrush.”

“Yeah but he always leaves _dirty clothes_ ,” Spencer says, and Brendon rolls his eyes.

“Then bring those ones home and trade them for something that won’t stink up my house!” Spencer’s dad chimes in.

 "Will do, sir!” Brendon says, and salutes him before running upstairs. Spencer had forgotten that Brendon was such a good actor.

 

~

Bob is a bit nervous about telling Ray’s family about the engagement via invitations to the wedding.

“It’s seems kind of _tacky_ ,” Bob complains.

“My mother knew I was planning on proposing, and since we live together, I doubt it’s that big of a surprise to my other family members,” Ray replies, flipping through another newspaper’s classified ads looking for somewhere to buy their tuxes. He is about to ask Bob what he thinks of renting, when Bob opens his mouth.

“But what about your poor grandmother?” Bob asks, and Ray just brushes it off.

“You’ve met my Nana, she’s worried that we’re living in sin and she won’t have any grandbabies with a proper name.” Ray says, circling a tuxedo rental place that looks vaguely promising.

“She does know that we can’t make babies, right?”

“Of course! But I think she was thinking of some adopted baby or maybe a surrogate or something. Not right now of course.”

“Not right now?”

“Well, we’re obviously now just getting married. We can think about babies a little bit farther ahead.”

The remark is so offhand that Bob just has to ask, “But… you want them?”

“Well, do you?” Ray’s actually looking at him now, brown eyes questioning.

Bob spits out a quick “Yes,” followed by “But do you or don’t you?”

“Of course I do!” Ray takes his hand and rubs his fingers in quiet circles, and Bob presses a kiss to his temple. “Well, I’m glad we’ve had _that_ talk. It’s much better than always wondering about it and silently going crazy.” Bob laughs, but gets quiet again.

“I want to adopt, a younger kid at first, but maybe an older kid later. I want to give them the chances that I’ve never had,” he says, after a few moments of deep consideration.

“I think that is a great idea. Maybe we can look into it after the honeymoon?” Bob kisses Ray again, this time on the lips. 

~

It isn’t as common now as it had been when they were younger, but sometimes when Brendon would sleep over, he’d crawl into bed with Spencer and spread his limbs like a blanket or cling like a vine. Nowadays, Brendon only does it in times of stress (like after school dances or before major tests). When his problems at home get really bad, Brendon will sneak over to Spencer’s house and sprawl out all over Spencer. It’s getting harder for Spencer now, too, because when he wakes up hard in the middle of the night, he has to check for Brendon. It would feel less creepy to rub one out if it wasn’t Brendon who caused it in the first place.

It’s really a lose-lose situation. When Spencer wakes up with Brendon curled around him, nose buried into his neck, he gets a sickly flutter in his stomach. When Spencer wakes up alone, he shivers from the cold (Brendon is a portable heater, built into a person) and tries to ignore the feeling of loss and the stab of pain that accompanies it in his heart.

Ever since Spencer told Brendon about the letters from his long-lost brother, Brendon’s been sneaking into Spencer’s room more often than not. Spencer thinks it might be Brendon’s way of keeping Spencer in Vegas, and maybe a little jealously, but nowadays, Brendon is surprisingly hard to read.

Spencer is mulling over the last letter from Bob when he hears the familiar creaking of the side wood and the squeak of his window. Brendon kicks his shoes off and tosses his jacket onto a chair, then flops onto the bed. He mumbles something, then wraps his arms around Spencer and buries his face in Spencer’s side. Spencer waits until Brendon falls asleep before wiggling out of his arms and shuffling the blankets so they cover Brendon. He feels a pang in his chest when he looks at Brendon, but gets up to write his letter anyway. Once he’s done, he carefully places the letter in an envelope, addresses and stamps it, then tucks it into a small box under his bed before climbing back into it. Brendon nuzzles his arm and Spencer closes his eyes.

 

~

 

Trish walks into her apartment after a hectic day to what sounds like a very noisy porno being played at just the right volume on their high-def speakers that it sounds real. “Pete, would you turn that down?” she calls, and sets her keys on the table before hanging her coat up. The soundtrack doesn’t do anything, so thinking he didn’t hear her, she says it again, louder this time. The noises pause, and then she hears a rustling sound, complete with a few faint curses. Pete must be cleaning up, now that she’s home.

She pours herself a glass of water in the kitchen, and waves at Pete, whose total nudity isn’t uncommon. What is uncommon is the condom wrapper, torn open at the edge, kicked under the coffee table. Trish decides not to comment, and instead walks toward the bathroom to get some Advil from the medicine cabinet. Pete lunges toward her, but is too late, because when she opens the door, a half dressed teenager is attempting to leave through the window. Trish screams at the top of her lungs, causing the boy to fall off the toilet he had climbed on top of. She kicks him before she sees his face and the stream of hickies trailing down his chest. She whirls around to glare at Pete.

“It isn’t what this looks like,” he says, walking steadily toward her.

“Oh yeah, then what is it? A teenaged, naked burglar who looks a lot like the kid who you’ve been talking to online for months?” She turns back around, and feels a punch rather than sees it. “What was that for?” Trish asks the kid, her voice now borderline shrill.

“You kicked me!” the kid defends.

“I thought you were robbing us!”

”But you knew who I was!”

“That was before I saw your face!”

“All right, we should probably put some clothes on and sort this matter out,” Pete tries to reason.

“No,” Trish says, angrier than ever. “I’m going to my brother’s place, and I’m  _not_  coming back.” She storms past Pete to get the bags she’s packed, throwing a few extra things into an old backpack. When she leaves the bedroom she shared with her boyfriend, she can hear Pete and the boy going at it again. They could have at least had the decency to wait until she left.

 ~

Bob normally wakes up at 4:30 so he can get the bakery up and running by 5:15 and open by 6. If he wakes up even a minute before his alarm goes off, he is extremely grumpy all day. So when someone knocks on his door at three in the fucking morning, he groans and rolls over to bury his face in Ray’s shoulder. Ray kisses his head, but pushes him away, mumbling, “Go get the door, you fuckwit.” Bob groans again but gets out of bed and treads down the stairs to the front door.

“What do you want, Frank?” he asks as he opens the door, but it is decidedly not Frank standing in front of him. Instead, it is a miserable looking girl, short with glasses, ragged clothes, and reddish hair dripping with rain. She has a tattered backpack on one shoulder and a battered suitcase in her hand. “Um… Hi?” he asks. “Who are you?" 

”Oh, I’m sorry,” she apologizes politely. “I’m Trish Stumph.”

”Who?” he asks, blearily.

”I’m your sister, Trish. The one you’ve been writing to since for three years,” she gently reminds him, pale face coloring a bit at the cheeks. He takes a long look at the bruise forming just below her eye, and the crooked angle of her glasses before ushering her inside. They walk into the kitchen, where Bob makes coffee.

”You weren’t supposed to get here for another couple of days,” Bob tells her, confused. She blushes again, playing with the hem of her faded, holey shirt.

”I—I had some problems with my boyfriend. So, I broke up with him.” Trish peeks up at him through the hair in her face. Bob nods, as if for confirmation, so she continues. “I kind of also lost where I was staying when I did that. The first thing I did after storming out of his place was buy a ticket for here. I—I was hoping I could stay with you, if you didn’t mind.”

”Of course you can stay with us,” a voice says from behind Bob. Trish jumps and Bob turns around to see Ray, standing in the doorway.

”Trish, this is my fiancé, Ray. Ray, this is Trish, my sister,” Bob introduces, and Trish looks slightly more relieved.

”Don’t worry, I don’t bite,” Ray tells her, grinning a bit when she recoils from his handshake. He stares at the puddle she’s making on the tile and says, “Why don’t we get you into some dry clothes? I have some old sweats that might fit you. You might want a hot shower too, huh? I’ll go get it started if you want to go up to the guest room with Bob and put your stuff away.”

Trish just stares at him for a moment before Ray says, “We’ll take good care of you. Bob is always taking in strays.” She looks at Bob with wonder before he blushes, thankful for the poor lighting.

Bob is flustered for a second but recovers with, “All right, you give me that.” Trish is reluctant to part with it at first, but after he assures her he is just taking it upstairs, she lets it go. “Come with me.” They shuffle up the stairs carefully, as not to scare her. He leads her to the small guest room, closest to the guest bathroom, and puts her suitcase on the chair. They stand in somewhat awkward silence until Ray interrupts it.

”All right, to the bathroom. There are clean clothes on the counter and towels on the rack. You can put your dirty clothes in the hamper. Turn the knob right to make the water colder, left to make it warmer. You can either come downstairs for a cup of coffee when you’re done or pass out on the bed, whichever you prefer,” he instructs, dragging her to the bathroom which is already filled with thick steam.

After she gets settled, Bob and Ray go back downstairs, and Bob pours them coffee. Ray wraps his arms around Bob’s waist and presses his face into Bob’s back. “I love you so much,” he whispers.

“I know,” Bob replies, then turns around to kiss Ray. “I love you too.”

~

“Mom, I know,” Spencer says one morning at breakfast.

“You know what, dear?” Ginger asks, absentmindedly. She’s cooking the family a celebratory breakfast. Today’s Spencer and Brendon’s high school graduation, and things are very busy.

Spencer doesn’t know what’s possessed him, but he continues, “I know about the adoption.” She drops the bowl in her hand, porcelain shattering on the tile.

“Where did you—Spencer, I mean.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

”We were going to tell you today, after your graduation. How did you find out?”

”My record got re-opened on my 18th birthday. My brother hired a private detective to find me. We’ve been writing ever since winter break.”

”A—are you sure it’s really him?”

”Did you ever meet Bob or Trish? Did you think it was a good idea to separate us? Why did you do it, anyway? You obviously were able to conceive.”

“Spencer—Bob was too old to adjust to first-time parents like ourselves. And Patricia, she had already been adopted by the time we found you.”

”What about Crystal and Jackie, though?”

“Shortly after your papers came through, and we moved here, a miracle happened. We’d been trying to have children for so long—nearly eight years. And when we found out we were expecting – twins, no less – right after we had just adopted you, we were overwhelmed.”

“But—”

When the twins come in, she cuts him off with a glare that obviously says, “We’ll talk later.”

~

One of Bob and Ray’s closest friends, Gerard, comes into the bakery just before Ray gets off of his shift at The Guitar Emporium. “Hey, Bob,” he says, pushing a stray lock of dark hair out of his face and behind an ear, “Do you have any chocolate croissants left?”

Bob makes a big show of grumbling and looking before finding an “extra” chocolate croissant hidden behind the vegan cheese and broccoli muffins (that only Frank and Greta ever order). If asked, he will deny vehemently that he keeps one just for Gerard there, even though it is one of the best-selling items on Bob’s menu and Gerard oftentimes forgets his wallet.

“Hey, before you crawl back into your cave, will you go to my house, and check up on my sister?” Bob asks, handing Gerard his croissant.

“She’s here? I thought she wasn’t supposed to arrive for a couple more days,” Gerard replies, before shoving half of the croissant in his mouth. Chocolate oozes out of the sides, onto his cheeks and fingers, but he just licks it off.

“Pig,” an elderly tourist mutters, and Gerard beams at her with brown teeth, crumbs stuck the edges of his mouth.

“Jesus, Gerard, here’s a napkin.” Bob hands him a napkin before continuing, “Her plans changed a little. She got kicked out of her apartment, so she’s staying with us a few extra days until she can go back to Chicago and find a cheaper place.” He stares at Gerard pointedly, remembering all the times Gerard forgot to pay rent or utilities and had to stay with Ray and Bob.

“Ahhh, ah sompofove wiffer,” Gerard says, mouth full of food.

“What?”

“Ah save-” Gerard swallows, then clears his throat before repeating, “I said, I sympathize with her.”

“Oh, just—can you keep her company until we get home?”

“Sure thing!” Gerard finishes his croissant and turns away, the unused napkin crumpled in his hand.

”And wipe your face off, I don’t want her… delicate sensibilities being shocked!” Bob calls as Gerard pushes open the door. Gerard turns, and stares at Bob with a manic grin. Bob sighs and shakes his head. What has he gotten his poor sister into?

~

Spencer’s graduation isn’t as big of a deal as he’d thought it was going to be, partially because his parents are whispering to each other the whole time, and partially because of the tickets to Jersey burning a hole in his wallet. He walks up to the stage when he hears his name, grabs his diploma, and sits back down until Brendon gets his. They do what they are told and then throw their stupid hats in the air at the appropriate time. They had originally planned to get lunch with Brendon’s family, but in light of recent events, they opt for a more private “celebration,” just Spencer and his parents. The twins get thrown into one of the many Urie cars, and they jabber excitedly with Brendon’s older sister, whom they idolize. Brendon just nods like he knows everything and a familiar knot forms in Spencer’s gut, making him want to laugh and throw up at the same time.

“You did WHAT?” his mother asks, at the Denny’s they decide to go to after the ceremony. Spencer has just informed her that he bought round-trip tickets to Jersey with money left over from Christmas and his part-time job.

“I already bought the tickets to visit my brother. I’m leaving tomorrow night.”

“You can’t just up and leave-”

“You should have told me about them when I turned eighteen, at least. I had the right to know!”

“We just wanted you to be happy. Do you see all the drama that’s been caused by you finding out?”

“You can’t just sweep something like this under the rug! Were you ever planning on telling me? For real this time, I don’t want any of that ‘after you graduated’ crap, either.”

”Spencer, don’t talk to your mother like that—” his dad intervenes.

“She’s not my mother. My mother died when I was young.”

“Ever since we signed those papers and took you into our home, you’ve been our son. And we’ve been your parents. We may not be biologically related but—”

“There are no ‘but’s in a situation like this. I’m going,” Spencer says, sliding out of the booth and leaving. The only problem is that he doesn’t have a car to drive himself home with, and the stadium where the graduation ceremony was held is pretty far away from his house. So, he does the semi-logical thing and calls Brendon.

“Bren, can you pick me up?” he asks outside. “I’m at the Blueberry Hill down the street from UNLV.”

“Sure thing!” Brendon squeaks through the speakers before hanging up. Spencer walks around behind the restaurant toward the major street to hide from his parents and to find Brendon. Soon enough, Brendon’s mother’s bright purple minivan can be seen from a distance, so Spencer stands up from his hiding place on what’s left of the grass and walks to the sidewalk.

“Where were you guys, pretty close?” Spencer asks when Brendon pulls up next to him.

“Yeah, luckily we were at that new Chinese Buffet down the street. If I hadn’t been nearby, you would’ve been on your own,” Brendon jokes, and then sees the look on Spencer’s face. “Hop in, you have to tell me absolutely everything that’s happened.”

~

When Trish woke up that morning (or was it afternoon?), she was extremely confused, but eventually remembered everything. After a bowl of cereal, and a reheated cup of coffee, she settles down on the couch to watch some TV. Bob and Ray have the same service she had, back in Chicago, complete with a DVR, so she flips through their recordings, surprised to find many of the same shows she enjoys recorded. After she finishes watching many different cooking shows ( _Down Home with the Neelys_  and  _Everyday Italian_  being her favorites), she flips through the channels before settling on an old western on AMC. The background music lulls her back to sleep until what must be hours later, when she’s woken by a loud commotion at the door. The sun is setting through the window, and a quick glance at the clock on the receiver confirms that it is almost 7. She sits up and looks at the door, where she can see a greasy, thin man fumbling with a set of keys.

He finally makes it through the door, and when he sees her staring at him, he trips. “Oh!” he exclaims. “I'm sorry to interrupt!” He gets up, and dusts off his faded and paint-splattered jeans 

“It's ok,I was just watching a movie,” Trish says, and gestures toward the television, where Gene Kelly is tap-dancing with enthusiasm.

“Oh, cool, I love this movie!” he exclaims and practically jumps onto the couch, next to her. He hums along with the music, not noticing her stare for quite a while. Finally, when he turns away from the screen, he notices her expression.

“Um... may I ask who you are?” she asks, after a pause.

“Oh, I thought Bob told you I was coming over. Well, it's very nice to meet you, Patricia, I'm Gerard!” he smiles, and Trish can't help but noticing a smear of chocolate on his cheek.

“Do you introduce yourself to every stranger you find sitting on your friend’s couch?” Trish asks, looking at him carefully.

“Bob told you’d be here. Unless you’re not actually Patricia—”

“It’s Trish. My mom was the only one who called me Patricia.”

“Sorry, Pa— er… Trish. I was going to say that you look remarkably like Bob, except for the whole bre--”

 

“Already making a fool out of yourself, Gee?” Ray cuts him off, and both Gerard and Trish jump. “Your feet are on the coffee table, and you know what happens when Bob finds scuff marks on it.”

 

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Trish says, trying not to laugh at Gerard flustering an apology, and failing.

 

“I’m a stealth ninja,” Ray says, straight-faced, and Gerard stops, mid-apology to nod soberly.

 

Trish looks between them, and sees the crack in Gerard’s face, so she isn’t surprised when they break out into laughter.

 

“Who’s up for a round of Rockband?”

 

~

 

Spencer and Brendon are sitting on the short wall that separates their yards, enjoying the early summer breeze and watching the sunset. They’ve been completely silent since after they’ve come outside, and by now, Brendon knows that Spencer isn’t going to change his mind. He’s setting out for Jersey tomorrow night, and nothing Brendon can say will stop that.

 

They watch the neighborhood kids race on their bikes, remembering when they used to do the same. “Why did we stop riding our bikes everywhere?” Brendon asks.

 

“Because by eighth grade, playing cops and robbers is considered lame.”

 

“That game was the shit though, remember when Marguerite caught us taking a shortcut on her lawn?”

 

”Oh my god, she had to speak to our parents about the proper care of her rare Norwegian grass, or whatever it is.”

 

“At least she was wearing real pants! Do you remember her gardening shorts?”

 

“Unfortunately. No woman past 50 should wear hot pants. How old do you think she was, you know, when she died?”

 

”Somewhere around 150.”

 

“No, seriously. I know she was supposedly a hot young thing in like, the 30’s.”

 

“I’m pretty sure I heard my dad talking about how she was born in 1895.”

 

”No way, you’re lying!” Spencer grabs Brendon, and flips him onto the grass in Spencer’s yard. They roll around tickling each other, until they run out of breath and stretch out to watch the last of the sunlight disappear.

 

“I wish things were back to how they used to be,” Brendon whispers, when he sees the first star. Spencer silently repeats the wish.

 

~

 

When Trish wakes up, Gerard is sitting on the couch again, playing with a bowl of cereal perched precariously on a pile of coasters. “Don’t you ever go home?” she asks him, when she settles down beside him on the couch.

 

“My apartment’s boring,” he surprisingly replies, and adds, “Besides, Bob said he needed someone to watch his little sister.”

 

”What?” Trish feels a bit outraged. She  _is_  a grown woman, after all.

 

“Well, I mean. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you; it’s just that you don’t know your way around here.  I’m supposed to be like a guide or something.”

 

“But I never leave the house.”

 

”Well, we could start with a trip to Bob’s bakery. He’s gotten offers to bake for fancy restaurants, you know?”

 

”He has?”

 

”Yeah, but he’s more interested in the whole concept of community. Most people here are pretty close.”

 

“Like freaky small town close or…?”

 

”We’re all good friends. It’s mostly younger people, a lot of them the outcasts of big cities or judgmental small towns. It’s gotten a lot bigger than it used to be, as the only store in town used to be the general store.”

 

”Where did all the shop fronts come from then?” Trish asks before taking a bite of her Cap’n Crunch.

 

”They’re renovated homes. A lot of them have apartments above the stores, like in older parts of the city.”

 

“Why doesn’t Bob live above his store?”

 

”It’s not big enough for everyone, including these lovely little children,” Gerard scoops Bauer up into his arms and scratches behind the dog’s ears. Dixie whines impatiently at Trish’s feet, so with a sigh, Trish places her cereal down carefully and picks the whining dog up. Dixie wriggles until she can lick Trish’s face enthusiastically. Gerard laughs, and behind the large pile of fur in her face, she can see Bauer nipping at Gerard’s ears. Once the dogs settle down, they continue their conversation.

 

“So what does Bob do with his upstairs apartment?”

 

“How about you come and see?”

 

~

 

Brendon is silent as he drives Spencer to the airport. Spencer tries several times to start a conversation, but Brendon just stares ahead in stony silence. They sit like that for several minutes, before Spencer starts to fiddle with the radio, but Brendon just turns it off, leaving Spencer with only the rattling air conditioner at full blast to listen to.

 

When they get to the part where Brendon has to decide between the parking terminals and the drop-off area, Spencer opens his mouth once again, but Brendon merges into the left lane that indicates he will park and walk with Spencer to the gate.

 

He parks and puts a few quarters in the meter as Spencer gets his baggage out of the back of the car. They go through the lines and once they get to the part where Spencer must leave Brendon, they turn to each other.

 

“Are you sure this is what you really want?” Brendon asks quietly.

 

“Yeah, Brendon, I am.”

 

Brendon opens his mouth as if to say something, and then closes it again. He grabs Spencer into a big hug, and whispers “I’m going to miss you,” into his ear.

 

“Me too, I’ll text you when I land.” Spencer squeezes Brendon one last time before they break apart.

 

”See you in two weeks,” Brendon says. He turns around and walks back toward the short-term parking lot. Spencer watches his friend to see if he turns around, but Brendon doesn’t. The lights of the sign of a nearby shop flicker a few times, and Spencer turns back around, toward the line for security. His stomach feels heavy, but he doesn’t feel like thinking about it right now, so he wearily follows the instructions of the disgruntled security agent.

 

~

  

Bob is surprised by his door chiming just before he’s ready to close up shop. Gerard and Trish are walking in, Trish quietly laughing at something Gerard has said.

 

"What are you guys doing?" Bob asks, surprised.

 

"Trish just wanted a little tour of the town, so we walked over here," Gerard answers, and Trish nods.

 

"Oh, cool. Do you guys want some leftovers? We had a pretty good day, but the cream cheese muffins always have a little trouble selling."

 

"Those sound pretty good," Trish replies,  and they walk closer to the counter. Bob takes two plates from the stack behind the counter, then takes said muffins out of the display case and places them on the plates.

 

"Here you go," he says, pushing them towards Trish, who takes one plate for herself and hands the other to Gerard. While they sit at a small table, Bob grabs a leftover chocolate chunk cookie for himself and joins them.

 

"Do you think that after this, you could show us around a little bit?" Trish asks when she sees him.

 

"Sure," Bob says, and bites into his cookie.

 

~

 

Spencer spends the entire flight with his iPod plugged into his ears, restlessly fidgeting and tapping his fingers to the beat. Brendon had stolen it before Spencer left and made a playlist that ordinarily would have soothed him. Now, it only makes him more on edge, dissecting each song, wondering why Brendon chose each particular one. The elderly woman on his left glares daggers at him, but he can’t stop moving. He stares out the window and pictures Brendon’s face when he wrestled the trip idea out of Spencer, hurt and betrayed, and can’t help but feel he’s missing some big piece of the puzzle that is Brendon lately.

 

~

 

Bob and Trish set out for the airport early in the morning. Trish digs through Bob’s CDs before deciding on a Green Day one, leading to a friendly debate over the merits of Dookie versus American Idiot. They only stop once for some gas at a station just outside of East Orange and end up back on the road with two large cups of coffee.

 

Once Bob finds a parking spot, they look for Spencer’s flight information to make sure it’s on time and head off in search of the baggage claim. They wait by the area where the Arrivals come in and after about 20 minutes with no sight of their brother, Trish suggests they should sit down somewhere. Bob makes a crack about making a sign with Spencer’s name on it, but agrees with her idea. When they turn to find seating, however, something catches the corner of his eye, so Bob turns back around.

 

An extremely flushed young man runs down the steps, his long hair sticking to his sweaty face. “Wait, Trish,” Bob says, and grabs his sister’s arm. She turns around and sees him, so she digs in her purse for the picture Spencer sent Bob after he agreed to come to Bob’s wedding. When they determine it’s who they want to see, they approach him.

 

“Spencer?” Bob asks tentatively.

 

“Bob?” Spencer looks up at him, eyes squinting in vague recognition.

 

“Yeah. It’s nice to see you again, little man,” Bob says and slings his arm around Spencer’s shoulder.

 

“It’s nice to see you too, even though I was a baby when I last saw you,” Spencer admits, and then does a double take at Trish. “Trish? I thought you were arriving after me. Did your flight come in early?”

 

“Kind of,” she says, shyly. “I actually came in two days ago, I had to leave town earlier than I thought.”

 

“Oh,” he says quietly.

 

“Do you… remember me?” Trish asks once they get back into the car.

 

“Not really. Well, I don't think I do. Maybe I imagined it?”

 

“I kind of remember you.”

 

“Last time we saw you, you were a baby,” Bob pipes in. “You still are, you just got taller.”

 

“Shut the fuck up Bob,” Spencer replies, and things aren’t nearly as awkward as before. Bob ruffles his hair, and Spencer glares, but he's still grinning.

 

~

 

Spencer is sitting on his brother’s couch (he’d never thought he’d ever say that) watching TV with his biological sister and a vaguely creepy dude named Gerard when a ridiculously tiny and tattooed guy bursts into the room. He looks at Spencer and exclaims rather loudly, “I didn’t know you had  _two_  sisters!”

 

Spencer glares and Trish chuckles, but he just continues talking, “This one is way more feminine than Trish!” Trish and Spencer’s glares are about equal now, set to “Kill and Destroy” when Bob walks in, chuckling.

 

“Dude, this is Spencer, my younger brother,” he says, and Frank’s jaw drops. He laughs awkwardly and mumbles a quick apology. Ray walks in behind them with a load of groceries.

 

“Whoa there, tone it down, you two. You look like Bob before he gets his coffee in the morning.” Spencer flashes a bright grin at Ray, before switching back to a fierce glare aimed at Frank. “Anyone want to help with the groceries?” Ray asks, setting the bags on the counter. Spencer’s up in a flash because a) he is a gentleman and b) he wants to get away from the ridiculous scene. He and Bob make quick work out of the bags in Ray’s dinged up sedan, Frank muttering about the deception of Spencer’s glittery unicorn shirt. Spencer is totally going to kill Brendon for sneaking that shirt into his suitcase when he gets home. (Though it is admittedly one of Spencer’s favorites.)

 

~

 

Spencer’s only been at Bob’s for two days, but he’s already homesick. Brendon constantly texts him updates about what’s going on back in Vegas, but it just makes things worse. Spencer’s phone buzzes for the fifth time in two minutes, and he just rolls over onto his stomach, sighing loudly.

 

 _Piper misses u :(_ , it says, showing a picture of Brendon’s tiny Chihuahua with big, sad eyes and he sighs again, quickly responding with a  _Miss her 2. Give her a hug 4 me._  So far, he’s had fun in Jersey, but right now, he misses his family, his “surrogate dog” (Jackie is allergic, so he’s never been able to have his own) and Brendon. Bob, Ray and their friends are all really nice, but they’re all busy being adults and have their own inside jokes. Bob’s dogs are friendly and playful, but he misses chasing Brendon’s dog around the living room, being careful not to knock over anything important.

 

Bob hears the sighing, and asks, “Why are you being all mopey?”

 

Spencer’s phone vibrates again.

 

_U should hug her urself. Come back 2 vegas_

“I’m homesick, and my best friend is an asshole,” he says after tapping out  _I told u_  as a reply.

 

“Well that sucks,” Bob says honestly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“I don’t know. Brendon’s, like, my best friend – pretty much my only one since Ryan’s been in college and talking to this one guy. Just, sometimes…” Spencer trails off when Brendon sends another text.

 

_Still thnk u should come back. Sumer’s no fun w/o u._

_Go to church_ , he sends back before looking up at Bob who says, “Why is it that you coming here such a big deal?”

 

“He thinks I’m deserting him or something. Like, when I told him about the trip, he looked so betrayed.”

 

“Well, he needs to grow up. You both do. This trip should help you stop being so codependent,” Bob’s words are lost with another buzz.

 

_meanie >:( _

Spencer silences his phone, and puts it onto the bed face-down. “It’s just—I don’t ever want to see that face again. He means so much to me, and I don’t ever want to leave him with that face. He should always be smiling, you know?”

 

Bob rubs his forehead before moving into the room closer. “Are you sure that you want to be just friends with him? Is there something else you’d like to tell me about your relationship with him?” he says and immediately regrets it. Spencer blushes a bright pink, and avoids eye contact with him.

 

“Can you close the door?” he asks quietly after a pause, and Bob does as he is told. Spencer takes in a deep breath before continuing, “It’s not really going to be anything. I mean, I think I like him more than just a friend, but nothing’s going to happen. He’s straight and—It’d be wrong. He’s my best friend.”

 

“You  _think_  you like him?” Bob asks, raising an eyebrow.

 

“I  _know_  I do. It’s just. Even if he wasn’t straight, I wouldn’t want to wreck such a great friendship with all of that relationship business.”

 

“The only way to know that is to find out.”

 

“I’d rather not lose him. He’s the best thing that’s happened to me.”

 

“You’ve got to at least try, Spencer. When you get back, ask him to go to a movie or something. Normal stuff that you’d do as friends and, like, try to gauge his reaction.”

 

“I can’t, Bob!”

 

“No, you  _won’t_. There’s a huge difference in that.”

 

“But what if I ask him out and he, like, hates me or something? What if when I go back he has a girlfriend? What if—”

 

“Spencer, you’ll only be here for a week. I doubt that he’ll get a girlfriend that quickly.”

 

“Still, I mean, there are a lot of things that could go wrong.”

 

“Just take it slow. First, you’ve got to tell him that you’re gay. If he’s gay, he might tell you too, and then you can work something from there.”

 

“He’s Mormon. They hate gay people!”

 

“I don’t think he’d hate you for coming out to him. And if he does, then he’s not a true best friend.” Bob leaves to let Spencer think it over.

 

~

 

The next morning, when Bob get up, he pours his daily bowl of cereal to eat in the solitude of early morning. He hears a noise from upstairs and then Spencer pads down the stairs and into the kitchen. They nod at each other as Spencer pours a bowl for himself, sitting down across from Bob. Spencer mumbles something at Bob and they eat breakfast together in a companionable silence.

 

~

 

Bob is in the kitchen, getting a glass of water before he goes to bed, when someone knocks on his door.  _It is too late for this shit_ , he thinks before calling out, “Somebody get that!” Trish and Gerard are on the couch, pretending to watch a movie, but really just making moony eyes at each other, and Spencer is curled up on the loveseat, stroking a sleeping Bauer absentmindedly. Bob clears his throat and he begrudgingly gets up, waking the dog. Spencer shuffles over to the door, opens it and promptly slams it shut.

 

“No one’s there,” he says, and shuffles back to the loveseat, moving Bauer before plopping back down. The knocking on the door continues, contradicting him, but Spencer ignores it, pretending to be focused on the television screen. Bob is too old for this, but since Spencer nor the fused lump of bodies on his couch known as  _TrishandGerard_  will get the door, he answers it. A tiny and jittery kid around Spencer’s age is standing there, with pouty lips and brown, begging eyes.

 

“Spence—” he begins, but then realizes that Spencer didn’t open the door again. “Um, hi? My name is Brendon; I’m here for Spencer? Who are you?”

 

“I’m Bob, Spencer’s brother. Spencer is getting his ass off of my couch  _right now_.” Bob directs the last words toward the living room, where he can hear Spencer groan and get up off of the couch. Bauer whines and follows Spencer to the door, nails clicking on the tile.

 

“Brendon, what are you doing here? I told you not to come!” Spencer says, hiding behind Bob.

 

Brendon begins to answer, but Bob cuts him off. “No way are you having this conversation with me in between.” He pushes Spencer out the door and continues, “You two are going to resolve your differences and both stop pouting so god damned much. Once you two are done, you can do whatever the hell you want as long as it doesn’t damage my property or wake me up. I am going to cuddle with my fiancé and dogs, and you two will have this done with by the time I wake up. Goodnight.”

 

Bob slams the door, scoops Bauer up in his arms, and waves at his sister and best friend, who are currently whispering and giggling. He takes the dog up to his bedroom, where he falls onto the bed and into Ray’s arms.

 

“Sorry about this,” he whispers, but Ray just kisses him sleepily.

 

“It’s okay, Bob, they’re your family and you really care about them. I think it’s hot,” Ray mumbles, grinning at him in the dark.

 

“I love you, you bastard.” Bob smiles back and kisses Ray again.

 

“I love you too,” Ray says and curls into Bob’s side.

 

Bob lays awake until the steady beating of Ray’s heart lulls him to sleep.

 

~

 

Spencer is still pissy about the way Bob shoved him out the door. Only he could make cuddling with Ray and their herd of adorable little dogs sound like a threat. He looks up at Brendon, who is trying to look as unobtrusive as possible, fiddling with the hem of his shirt and pushing his glasses back up his nose.

 

“What are you doing here, Brendon? Do your parents even know you’re here?” Spencer sighs.

 

“I had to make sure you’re safe and this Bob guy wasn’t some kind of scammer, like in Annie!”

 

“Life isn’t a musical, Brendon.”

 

“Still, it’s happened before!” There’s a pause until Brendon adds, “Well, I mean, you already have your Daddy Warbucks, and I doubt that Piper counts as a Sandy. Maybe like a fourth, since she’s like a Chihuahua. Or even a half, because she’s pretty feisty for such a small thing. But—”

 

Spencer cuts off Brendon’s nervous rambling with “How did you get here, Brendon?”

 

“Well, you know how Dallon’s sister is a flight attendant? Well, he had some spare tickets and there’s a big youth conference for the church in New York this week, so I told my parents I was going with him to it. He’s not very happy that he has to lie for me, but it was a matter of life and death, so-”

 

“I  _told_  you not to worry about me. I told you I’d be fine.”

 

“I was still really worried. You hardly even answered my texts.”

 

“That’s because there were too many to answer. I had to turn my ringer off because it was buzzing so much.”

 

“Spencer, don’t be like that.”

 

“Don’t be like what, Brendon? You don’t even trust me to make my own decisions anymore. I’m not twelve and stuck in a dumpster anymore.”

 

“What? It’s not that I don’t trust you, I’m just so worried.”

 

“Don’t be. I can take care of myself.”

 

”Why did you even want to come, anyway? You have a family back home in Vegas. You don’t need another one.”

 

“Brendon, you don’t understand. My whole life, I’ve been feeling like I’m missing out on some great big part of my life, and this is it. I feel so much better now that I know who the flashes people really are. I barely remembered them, and told myself I imagined them my whole life. But they’re  _real_. I really do have a protective older brother and a shy older sister, like I always pretended I did.”

 

“You don’t need them for that, though! Your family, your sisters, Ryan and I were-”

 

“You were there, but it wasn’t the same. And Ryan’s been different ever since he’s been in college and involved with that Pete guy.”

 

“I don’t understand why you’d want to leave us.” Brendon’s voice is thick with something Spencer can’t quite identify. He can see the little drops of tears hanging from the end of Brendon’s nose glistening in the house light before he decides to give up.

 

“I was never trying to leave you. I just needed to find myself.”

 

“By coming here?”

 

“Yeah, by coming here. Now, let’s stop arguing. It’s late and I bet you’re tired. Do you even have a place to stay tonight?” Brendon shakes his head, and Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose. “Jesus. Here, let’s go inside. You can crash in my room for tonight, Bob and Ray are nice dudes like that.” They walk inside and up to the guest room where Spencer is staying in silence before crashing on the bed.

 

Brendon curls up around him like always, and Spencer can feel the front of his shirt being soaked. He strokes Brendon’s back, murmuring soothing nonsense words and wondering what to do.

 

~

 

Spencer’s door is open when Bob wakes up the next morning, so naturally, he takes a peek. Spencer is curled up on top of the covers with the boy, Brendon, next to him. Their arms and legs are jumbled together and his heart warms at the scene, so he grabs a throw blanket off of the chair near the bed and gently tucks them in.

 

When Ray arrives at his bakery later that day, Bob grumbles about being a halfway house for angst-ridden teenagers. Ray just smiles and pecks him on the cheek.

 

~

 

 

Bob gets a call from Mikey twice a week, because Mikey can’t always visit due to the traveling nature of his job. During one of the weekly calls, Mikey interrupts Bob’s retelling of Frank’s hilarious mistake.

 

“So tell me more about your sister.”

 

”Why?”

 

”I think Gee’s in love with her,” Mikey answers, and Bob sighs.

 

“This is just a lot of trouble in the making.”

 

“Well, I’m not too entirely sure. He’s either in love with her or deathly afraid.”

 

”What do you mean?”

 

“Well, yesterday when I was talking to him, he kept rambling on about her. He told me, ‘She’s just like Bob, only scarier. And with a vagina.’”

 

“He did not…” Bob pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs again.

 

”I swear, you can ask Alicia," Mikey replies seriously.

 

“Really?”

 

“Well, no. But they did have a long talk. Apparently he wants to know the proper way to woo a lady," he sounds as if this were the end of the world, but Bob knows he just really cares about his brother.

 

“He’s not going to go all medieval knight on her, is he?” Bob asks, suddenly recalling the "incident" a few years ago.

 

“I don’t know, just keep the poetry away from her until you know how she feels about him.”

 

”It’s kind of obvious she likes him. They’re always sitting on the couch, making moony eyes at each other.”

 

“Just to be on the safe side, take his poetry journal away. Do you remember his Shakespeare phase?” Mikey asks, and Bob remembers. Bob definitely remembers the hose. And the feathered hats. He will never forget the skulls, either.

 

”Of course I do, he nearly got a restraining order set on him. Look, I’ll try to keep them out of trouble.”

 

”Good, I don’t want him planning out their life before I’ve even met her.”

 

“She’s very reliable, though. I trust her.”

 

”As long as you do, I’m fine.” Mikey is usually very skeptical of others, but he trusts Bob's judgement.

 

~

 

Everyone is sitting in the den and talking when Gerard asks Brendon why he followed Spencer to Jersey.

 

“Well, it’s been really stressful ever since Ryan took off—”

 

“Ryan?” Ray asks, wanting more information.

 

“Ryan was our best friend, before he ran off to Chicago to be with some married guy he met on the internet.”

 

”Pete wasn’t married, he just had a serious girlfriend,” Spencer interrupts. “Not that it made any difference to either of them. I feel bad for that poor girl.”

 

“Oh my god,” Trish whispers, and everyone turns to see her shaking.

 

”What’s wrong?” Gerard asks her, rubbing her back.

 

“Did they meet on livejournal?” she asks Brendon, and Brendon looks at Spencer before tentatively nodding. “Oh my god, your friend ran off to be with my boy— _ex_ -boyfriend.”

 

”Um, I’m sorry?” Spencer glares at Brendon for being insensitive, and Gerard is starting to look really worried.

 

“Are you okay?” he asks, his arm curled protectively over her shoulder.

 

That’s when Trish bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, how old was he, twelve? I hope his parents or somebody presses charges. That has to be, like, illegal.”

 

Everyone looks around, slightly confused but relieved that the crisis is averted.

 

~

 

Trish is sitting on the couch with Gerard, their knees touching gently, and watching him as he speaks.

 

“And then I told him, ‘I don’t care who she is, just get me out of this elevator!’” he waves his hands enthusiastically as he speaks, flipping dark out of his eyes and smiling nervously. Trish laughs appropriately, trying to urge the warm and fuzzy feeling that has bloomed in her stomach to go away.

 

It won’t and she tries to suppress the rising panic in her throat. She had fallen for a pretty, dark-haired guy with an amazing sense of humor before and that had ended in pain- both emotionally and physically. But Gerard isn’t like Pete. Instead of raucous laughter and obnoxiously outgoing behavior, it was small, shy smiles and awkward, stumbling tongues around silly jokes. Pete had been all flash and show, his fiery temper well-known all across Chicago. Gerard was patient and shy, and yeah, he rambled about pointless things, but in an adorably geeky way.

 

They keep accidentally bumping into each other and each time it sends little jolts of electricity through her body. They weren’t huge sparks, the kind that led to clothes being violently torn off and ended with bruised skin and deep regrets. Instead, they were tiny sparks that led to a steady fluttering of butterflies in her stomach. Gerard’s face was close now and Trish could count each of his tiny freckles on his otherwise perfect skin.

 

Skin that was growing closer by the second with- oh, Gerard’s lips were on Trish’s, chaste, but sending more volts down her spine.

 

Trish was pretty sure she had goose bumps when she felt Gerard’s tongue press against the seam of her lips. She opens them, expecting Pete’s messy, drunk kiss, but getting a gentle, steady and overwhelmingly sweet kiss. Gerard was kind, and Trish returned the emotions, letting the kiss linger before she pulled away. It was a sweet kiss, like those of her childhood. Awkward, but gentle and getting the point across. It was still entirely wrong, too soon after she had left Pete.

 

Trish voiced her concerns, pulling away quickly, almost tripping on her way backward, and stumbling over. “I’m sorry.”

 

Gerard’s face blatantly showed his dismay, and Trish feels the panic strike again before she runs out. She doesn’t deserve anyone as nice as Gerard; she is damaged goods. No one has to put up with her. She starts to repack her things before a great shadow loomed in the doorway.

 

“What are you doing?” Bob asked arms crossed.

 

“I—I’m going home,” Trish says after a brief silence. Except that there was no home. Pete still owned the house, but Bob didn’t need to know that.

 

“You’re breaking his heart, you know. He really likes you.”

 

“That’s why I have to go. I don’t want to hurt him," Trish says, throwing a ratty pair of jeans into her suitcase.

 

“It’ll hurt him worse if you leave now."

 

“No, it’ll hurt later, when I inevitably screw up.”

 

“You won’t screw up," Bob says, with complete faith and Trish can't help but laugh.

 

“How can you know that?” she asks, turning towards her brother.

 

“So, what if you screw up? What if he screws up? What if I screw up? Apologies were invented for a reason," Bob replies, moving in closer, and Trish backs up until she hits the bed.

 

“You can’t fix anything with just an apology," she says, trying to sound at least a little bit together.

 

“No, but it’s a good start to working out a problem.”

 

“That’s not going to work!” Trish yells, and then realizes how loud she has gotten. "It's not," she whispers, biting her lip.

 

“If it doesn’t, you just move on. But you can’t leave without ever even trying." Bob sounds like an after-school special, and Trish is about to break down again.

 

“That’s going to be really hard," she whispers, falling onto the bed.

 

“Life is hard, Patricia," Bob says, putting a hand on her back.

 

“Don’t call me that!” Patricia strikes at his hand, and Bob looks at her pensively. 

 

“Sorry," he says, after a few moments of silence. "But seriously, I want you to unpack, calm down a little, maybe take a bath or shower or something, and join us for dinner, ok?” Bob’s tone leaves little room for argument, so Trish just nods and does as she is told.

 

~

 

Spencer finds the photo album on one of the big bookshelves in the den. He flips through it, completely surprised to find what appears to be a happy family. The first photograph is a laughing woman twirling in the sunlight, her long blonde hair floating around her body as she turns to face the camera. The next picture is the woman standing at the altar in a wedding dress, grinning so hard it looks painful. Holding her hand is a tall man in a suit, obviously the groom.  _This must be our parents_ , he realizes, and flips the page to see the woman reclining in a chair, pregnant stomach sticking out far ahead of her. A couple of pages later, she is bending down in a park. At her feet is a young child, not quite a toddler, but no longer a baby. He is attempting to stand, and when Spencer stares at it long enough, he looks a bit like Bob.

 

Spencer doesn’t hear Bob come in, so he startles when Bob says, “The blue one has all of us in it.” Bob pulls the album off the shelf, and Spencer scoots over, so that Bob has room to sit on the floor with him.

 

A blonde young boy pouts in the background as a redheaded toddler blows out a few birthday candles. “Is that you?” Spencer asks, and Bob nods, grinning. “I would’ve never imagined you as the jealous type,” Spencer remarks, and Bob laughs.

 

”I was very young, you can’t blame me.”

 

”That I can’t,” Spencer replies, smiling down at the album. With each picture, Bob tells a story, each one special in its own way. Eventually Trish wanders over, and when Bob tells Spencer something she doesn’t agree with, she voices her opinion.

 

“You never even mentioned when you threw my favorite doll out the window of the car!” Trish remarks, exasperated.

 

“You remember that?” Bob asks, quirking an eyebrow.

 

“Of course! That was my Precious Petunia doll, and I remember begging Dad for months to get her.”

 

They bicker for a few more minutes before Spencer interrupts with, “I wish I could have grown up with you guys.” It’s pretty grave compared to the natural sibling disagreements, but Bob and Trish understand completely.

 

“I often used to think I dreamed up the whole thing,” Trish whispers, tracing the edges of a photo with her fingertip.

 

”I used to wonder how you guys turned out, if the places you settled in were good for you,” Bob swallows thickly before continuing. “If you’d ever remember me.” They turn the album to the last pages, a happy family portrait taken a month before their parents’ death. Underneath it is a news clipping, saved by the elderly woman who had lived next door.

 

When Bob was a rebellious teenager, he had looked long and hard to find their old house. Bob tells Trish and Spencer the story of what he considered to be start of his life.

 

~

 

_Bob had been what was considered homeless for six months when he finally found the house._

_It was dark and stormy, the rain pounding on Bob’s head as he shivered through his thin jacket. It had taken him months to finally track down the correct street his old house had been on, and he could still remember the style of the home. When he finally reached it, he had thought about ringing the bell or knocking, but he didn’t know what the family living there now would do._

_Instead, he stood at the window, freezing in the rain, but watching the happy family inside eat dinner. They were warm, loved, and safe, three things he was certainly not feeling at the moment._

_That was when Nora found him. She was letting one of her many cats into her house, when she saw the shaking teen, standing at the window of her neighbor’s house. When she called out to him, he panicked, and almost broke into a run. But instead of calling the police, she welcomed him into her home._

_There was something familiar about him, she had told him, right after she had given him a cup of hot cocoa. He looked like someone she had once known._

_That’s when the truth came spilling out. Bob told her his name, and why he had come to the house. Nora just shook her head, and scratched one of her cats’ heads._

_“Don’t think I don’t remember you, Bobby Bryar,” she said, smiling at him enigmatically. “You lived next door with your parents and younger siblings, and I often babysat you.” He hadn’t really remembered her, as his memories were focused on his immediate family, but he had a fuzzy recollection of an old woman chasing him around the yard. He had thought it was a grandmother, but then he remembered that he had no living family but his siblings, who were lost._

_“It’s such a shame what happened to you all, especially since your parents were such nice people. So happy-go-lucky, your mother was,” Nora continued. She regaled him with stories he wouldn’t have remembered, and when his eyelids began to droop, her fire was lit in her eyes. He tried to apologize, but instead of getting angry, she ordered him upstairs to take a warm shower, and then to sleep in her guest room._

_When he thanked her profusely, she just said, “Don’t worry about it. I’m an old woman, and I need fresh blood to keep me young.” She grinned mischievously and, in a flash, he could see what she what have looked like as a younger woman._

_From then on, Bob lived with Nora. She fed him, gave him clothes and let him sleep in her spare room in exchange for him finishing high school and odd jobs around the house. He was infinitely grateful to her, and once he had a real job, he tried to pay her back. She refused, naturally, citing that she had no grandchildren of her own to spoil, and the children next door were spoiled brats._

_When she died, she left him countless photo albums that she had “rescued” from his house before it was auctioned off. She had also left him a letter, telling him to contact her great grandnephews Mikey and Gerard, who lived in New Jersey._

_With nothing but a couple of old photo albums, Bob set off for Jersey._

_Once Bob had finally gotten to Jersey and found the brothers, he didn’t know what to do. He had no place to sleep, and no money, and they lived in a teeny tiny house with their parents. Thankfully, Bob had met Ray. Ray’s mother took one look at Bob and understood his plight. She oftentimes forced a big meal down his throat, whenever he saw her later on. He ended up sleeping in their spare room many times until he got a place of his own._

~

 

It’s raining in Jersey, which isn’t such a big deal to the residents, but to Brendon and Spencer, who see the rain twice a year, and never on this scale, it’s magic. Brendon bounces around, anxious to get outside as Spencer ties his shoelaces.

 

“I love to play in the rain!” he exclaims, for the fifth time that day, and Spencer just smiles to himself, Gerard groaning.

 

“We know! Now go to Bob’s and have some doughnuts and get out of our hair!”

 

“You just want more alone time with Trish, don’t you?” Brendon teases, causing both Gerard and Trish to blush, though Trish has a bit of an embarrassed scowl on her face.

 

“Yes!” she snaps finally, and Spencer takes the opportunity to pull Brendon out the door.

 

“You really drive her crazy, you know,” Spencer says once they’re on the way. His hood is pulled over his ears to protect his hair, but Brendon’s letting the rain drench him.

 

“I’m just teasing. She’s only that cranky because when we’re around, she’s not getting laid,” Brendon remarks off-handedly.

 

“I doubt Trish and Gerard are even at that point in their relationship yet. They’re both so shy.”

 

“I bet Gerard’s a beast in the sack.”

 

“Ugh, Brendon. That’s just disgusting. That’d be like saying Kara’s husband is a tiger or something.” Brendon makes a face and Spencer laughs. “See?”

 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Brendon says and they walk in silence for a while. He shivers mildly, but Spencer notices.

 

“Aren’t you cold?”

 

“Never! It’s  _raining_. I enjoy it.”

 

“You’re going to get sick. Are you sure you don’t want to pull your hood up?”

 

Brendon looks at him, raindrops in his eyelashes, and for a minute it seems like he’s going to speak, but he shuts his mouth. Spencer’s hand is swinging by his side, and he sees Brendon eyeing it, so Spencer slyly pulls Brendon’s hand out of his hoodie pocket and squeezes it. Brendon blushes and Spencer teases him.

 

“You’re blushing so hard that you’re turning the rain to steam.” Brendon smiles and rolls his eyes, then focuses on the street.

 

“The rain makes everything so beautiful,” he whispers after a few moments, and Spencer can’t help but agree. Brendon’s dark hair looks darker, plastered to his head, and his cheeks are bright pink with the chill. He voices his opinion, and Brendon stops. Their eyes meet, and Spencer leans forward carefully.

 

“Spence—” Brendon starts, but then Spencer presses their lips together, and there’s no more sounds except the pounding of their hearts and the steady pitter patter of the rain on the sidewalk. Brendon shivers again, and Spencer pulls away. Brendon’s eyes are dilated and he’s breathing heavily, the ghosts of breath appearing between them.

 

“We should probably go inside now, it’s cold, and Bob’s bakery is, like, right around the corner.”

 

“Yeah,” Brendon agrees, but kisses him again anyway.

 

They finally walk into the bakery, ten minutes later, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. Ray eyes the young couple and sighs.

 

“Ah, young love.”

 

“Hey, we’re not old yet!” Bob protests and leans on his toes to kiss Ray’s forehead.

 

“I never age with you around,” Ray teases, rubbing his nose against his fiancé’s. They share a quick smile and kiss before Brendon pipes up.

 

“Ew, old people love!”

 

“Take it back to your room at the retirement home, Gramps!” Spencer calls, laughing. Bob breaks away to stick his tongue out at Spencer, who he notices is still holding hands with Brendon.

 

“Ew, you two, stop necking, I am starving and have heard your muffins are the bomb,” Brendon says, after a short pause. Spencer wants to giggle, but luckily controls it.

 

“You heard the young man,” Bob says, and swats at Ray’s ass. “Get to work, I’ll see you later!”

 

“Love you!” Ray says, and kisses Bob again, turning toward the door and walking away.

 

“Love you too!” Bob grins and watches Ray cross the street as Brendon and Spencer debate over muffins and croissants.

 

~

 

“I feel like all you two ever do is sit on this couch and cuddle,” Ray complains when he walks into his house and sees Trish and Gerard on the couch  _again._  They turn to look at him. Dixie, who is caught between Gerard and Trish, squirms to get out and greet him.

 

Trish opens her mouth to protest, but then notices Gerard’s arm around her waist and the fact that she is practically sitting on his lap, and blushes. “We do other things,” she mumbles, turning her head.

 

“Like what?”

 

”We went to Bob’s bakery the other day!” Gerard exclaims, and Trish smiles at him encouragingly.

 

“Anything else besides that and grocery shopping?” Ray asks, crossing his arms. They sit in relative silence (except for the horror movie playing in the background) for a moment before Ray continues, “Yeah, I thought so.” He leaves with a triumphant smirk on his face, and Gerard panics.

 

“I’m so sorry that—um, I mean that—we should-” Gerard fumbles with his words a little before Trish silences him with a reassuring hand on his arm.

 

“It’s ok, I don’t like going out much anyway,” she tells him, and he visibly relaxes.

 

“It’s just—I feel like I am acting ashamed of you, when I totally am not!”

 

“I know that, and you know I know, so who cares what anybody else thinks?”

 

”I do,” he mumbles, but turns back to the movie after Trish has obviously halted the conversation.

 

~

 

After about a half an hour, during the commercial break, Gerard blurts out, “We should go out.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

”Like, um… dinner? And maybe a movie. Not like, not like this. Like, go to the city maybe? I bet Mikey could get us reservations to a ritzy restaurant, and maybe we could go see that new X-Men movie?” he asks.

 

“Of course!” Trish beams at Gerard, and he flushes.

 

“How about Friday? There’s enough space between then and the wedding, and um-”

 

She cuts him off with a kiss.

 

~

 

“Motherfucker!” Bob shouts, and hands the paper money to Trish, whose grin is growing wider each second.

 

“It’s my turn next!” Brendon says, reaching for the dice. Bob hands them over with a sigh. They’ve been playing monopoly for the last hour and a half, and it’s been going south ever since Trish and Brendon made an evil pact.

 

(“I’ll give you a thousand and my Marvin Gardens if you give me your railroad, AND you don’t have to pay for landing on the railroads anymore.”

 

“Okay, but no fees on utilities either.”

 

”Then I don’t get fees when I land on the yellows. Deal?”

 

”Deal.”)

 

Brendon hits the community chest, and wins another $200 as he speeds past go to one of the four railroads he owns. “Yes!” he says, and hands the dice to Trish.

 

“Ooh, I’m elected mayor and everyone owes me $500 in gratitude,” she says, holding her hand out for even more paper money.

 

“You’re such a cheater!” Spencer says, as his eyes his own dwindling stack of multicolored paper in comparison to Trish and Brendon’s equally large piles.

 

“You wanted to play this game,” she says and shrugs, handing Ray the dice. He calmly rolls a nice 4, landing on free parking. He hands the dice to Spencer, who lands on Go To Jail.

 

“I thought we said no pacts this time,” Bob says, and Brendon smirks.

 

“You said we couldn’t use threat of withholding or the promise of sexual favors to influence our respective partners to cheat with us," Trish corrects, her cheeks flushed with victory.

 

“You never said anything about partnering up with someone else!” Brendon adds.

 

“No more unholy alliances, ever," Spencer stage-whispers, and Bob nods.

 

“You can’t change the rules in the middle of the game," Brendon says, pouting.

 

”I’m pretty sure this shit is outlawed anyway," Bob grumbles.

 

”There is nothing about it in the rulebook. Would you like to check for the third time?” Ray butts in, and Bob glares.

 

“No teaming up with your lovebuddy, remember?” Bob and Spencer grumble, and they all continue to be slaughtered by Brendon and Trish for two more hours, until Bob looks at the time and realizes he has to open up early tomorrow.

 

“You just want to give up, don’t you?” Brendon teases. Spencer kicks him under the table.

 

“No, I have to earn a living so these freeloaders in my house can eat and take entirely too long showers with their boyfriends,” Bob retorts, and sends a look at him. Brendon wisely shuts up, and the game is over.

 

“I’ll be up in a few,” Ray promises, kissing his ear. “I have to clean up a bit.”

 

Bob kisses Ray’s cheek and heads upstairs for bed.

 

~

 

Trish is biting her lip and shaking her head at yet another of the flouncy and low-cut dresses Greta picks out.

 

“I can’t really see anyone but you in that dress, Greta,” she says, and Greta blushes a pretty pink.

 

“I actually own this dress,” Greta murmurs and Trish laughs. “Do you think we should get help from Lindsey? She owns the boutique, so she’ll probably be able to pick the perfect dress out.” Trish starts to shake her head, but Lindsey, hearing her own name, pops up out of nowhere.

 

“Do you two need any help?” she asks, and before Trish can protest, Greta nods enthusiastically.

 

“Trish and Gee are going on their first date, and Trish told me she hasn’t owned a dress since she was in primary school.”

 

“That was in  _confidence_!” Trish says, glaring at Greta, but Lindsey takes a long look at Trish, and gets a spark in her eye.

 

“Did he say where to?”

 

“Somewhere nice, he told her.”

 

“Hmm…” Lindsey mutters something under her breath, and then grins widely. “It’ll be just a second. Do you want to go to the dressing room and wait for it?”

 

Greta pushes Trish toward the dressing room, and Lindsey disappears into the back. Greta succeeds in stripping Trish down to her underwear and socks (“Don’t worry, I’m not looking. I'm very happy with my relationship,” she insists.) After a few minutes of staring at her freezing and nearly-naked self in the mirror, Lindsey finally returns, holding a dress in her hand.

 

“Here you go,” she says, handing it to Trish, who marvels at how gorgeous the dress is. It is purple satin with pleats along the top that form a flattering sweetheart neckline. The back is open and at the top of the waist sits a small bow. The lower skirt is mildly slitted and there are subtle pockets resting on the sides of her hip.When Trish slips it over her head, she feels glamorous immediately.

 

“Come on out!” Greta calls, and Trish tentatively does so, hearing the other women gasp. “It’s fantastic!” Greta says, after she sees it, and ushers Trish over to the large antique mirror. The rich color makes her skin look like a soft cream, and brings out her green eyes. Trish can hardly recognize herself.

 

“Wow,” she says, in awe.

 

“Wow,” Lindsey agrees, patting her shoulder. “So will that be debit or credit?”

 

~

 

Brendon and Greta are helping Trish get ready for her big date. Greta’s flitting about, trying to find the right accessories for her outfit, and Brendon is doing her hair, curling and combing it back into a headband, the soft waves emphasizing her chin.

 

Greta finally decides on the earrings for Trish to wear, but then forgets where she put the shoes they bought especially for the date, and rushes out of the room. Brendon accidentally bumps into Trish while she’s putting on her left earring, and it falls down the front of her dress, getting stuck at the part nipped in by the tightly-drawn adjustable waistband. She can’t get it, so Trish blushes before asking Brendon to retrieve it.

 

He fumbles around before deciding to shove his hands up the front (while repeatedly apologizing, of course) to get it.

 

“Right… there!” Trish exclaims, so Brendon grins and then the worst possible thing happens. Spencer walks in.

 

“What are you guys—” he pauses, before continuing with a shocked look, “Bren—Trish. How could you?” It looks pretty bad out of context, but before Brendon can explain himself, Spencer rushes out of the room.

 

Brendon hands the earring to Trish and follows him, cornering him by the staircase.

 

“It wasn’t what you thought it was, Spence," Brendon says, his arms blocking Spencer from moving.

 

“How do you explain having your hands shoved up my sister’s dress?” Spencer is doing his best to not look at Brendon, but it's hard with his boyfriend literally in his face.

 

“She dropped her earring down the front of her dress, and I was trying to help her get it out," Brendon says, moving his face even closer.

 

“Yeah right, I don’t know anyone who would believe that." Spencer swallows, closing his eyes.

 

“It’s the truth, Spencer. She’s going out on her first date with Gerard. Why would either of us spoil that with five minutes in her bedroom?”

 

“I don’t know, but that is a pretty inconceivable excuse," Spencer replies, and Brendon grabs his face, forcing Spencer to look at him.

 

“Spencer, I am in love with you. I’m pretty sure I have been since the seventh grade, when you rescued me from that trash can!”

 

“I don’t know…” Spencer trails off, and Brendon sighs.

 

”Besides, I’m like 100% gay or something. Just, ick  _boobs_.”

 

“What about your ridiculous crush on Britney Spears?” Spencer asks, his straight face threatening to crack.

 

“Just because I don’t want to feel her up doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate her rockin’ abs.” With this, Spencer grins, and Brendon pulls him closer.

 

~

 

Gee’s ratty car (on loan from his brother, Mikey, who lives closer to the city) pulls up in front of Bob and Ray’s house a little before 6:00 p.m. Everyone actually inside the house is pretty tense, though Trish just laughs at them.

 

“This is  _my_ date, so stop being more worried than me,” she tells Brendon, who is pacing.

 

“Just what if—”

 

“Trish and Gee’s night will be perfect!” Greta insists, smiling sweetly yet jabbing him in the side.

 

“Perfect,” Trish repeats, smile faltering a little when the doorbell rings.

 

“Oh my god, he can just come in, it’s not like he wasn’t here three hours ago.”

 

”Shut up, he’s trying to make it as official as possible, like a  _real date_ ,” Spencer whispers, and Brendon just pouts at him.

 

”When are  _we_  going to have a real date?”

 

“Soon enough. Now stop trying to ruin Trish’s night!”

 

Trish carefully pats her dress down before answering the door and being assaulted with a huge bouquet of flowers.

 

“Um, I got Ray to ask Bob to ask Ian to ask Greta to ask you what your favorite flowers were,” Gerard says, as if apologizing.

 

“They’re beautiful!” Trish exclaims, eyes taking in the fantastic site of the tiger lilies and orchids.

 

“Um, thanks?” he gets nervous, cheeks turning pink. Ray gracefully intervenes.

 

“I’ll put these in one of our vases, so they can stay alive longer,” he says, and Trish hands the flowers to him.

 

“Have fun you two!” Spencer calls, grabbing Brendon and rushing away to the living room to give Gerard and Trish some space. Greta follows Ray into the kitchen with the same idea.

 

“You ready to go?” Gerard asks, holding his arm out. Trish takes it, and pecks him on the cheek.

 

They walk out to his car, and he opens the door for her. “What a gentleman,” she mumbles, and he laughs. They talk quietly on the way to the restaurant, and once they arrive, she gets very excited.

 

“This is a very well-known place,” Trish gushes, “We saw it on Food Network the other day.”

 

“That’s why we’re here. I had to pull some strings to get here, but the head chef is an old friend,” Gerard admits.

 

“Thank you so much, Gee,” she says and beams. They sit in the car smiling at each other until a valet knocks on the window.

 

“Oh, yeah!” Gerard gets out of the car, and the valet opens the door for Trish. Gee hands the keys to him, and then they go up to the maître d’. “Way,” he says, and they are led inside.

 

~

 

“I wonder what they’re doing,” Brendon says, halfway in the middle of the movie.

 

”I don’t know,” Spencer mumbles, rubbing an eye. Greta had left an hour ago, almost immediately after the “lovebirds” (as Brendon insisted on calling them) had left. Her boyfriend, Ian, had picked her up. Her eyes were very dreamy, and Spencer could tell that she was going to make Ian do something romantic. This idea was also confirmed by Brendon experiencing the same thing.

 

(“Can we watch Aladdin?” he asks, and Spencer agrees. In Brendon’s opinion, Jasmine and Aladdin are the most romantic couple in history. Spencer can oftentimes be found agreeing, especially if he’s watching the movie with Brendon and they’re cuddling.)

 

Bob stumbles in around 8:30, and he crashes on the loveseat with his fiancé.  They watch the movie in companionable silence (with a minor snack break right before Aladdin breaks into the castle to save his princess).

 

Around 9 o’clock, Gerard and Trish walk in to find Spencer and Brendon asleep on the couch, and Bob and Ray sitting at the kitchen table talking.

 

“How was it?” Ray asks, and Trish blushes.

 

“It was a lot of fun!” Gerard says, and Bob can’t help but notice how their hands are clasped tightly together.

 

"What did you do?" Bob asks them.

 

"Gerard took me to Tony's restaurant and then we saw X-Men. It was super fun!" Trish says, her voice quiet but full of joy.

 

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Gerard says as he turns toward her. They look at each other for almost a solid minute before Bob coughs to break the silence.

 

"Okay, lovebirds. Ray and I are going to bed. See you in the morning!" he says, taking Ray's hand.

 

"Goodnight!" Ray calls, but it's lost to Gerard and Trish, who are once more chatting amicably while Gerard makes them cups of coffee.

 

~

 

Spencer steps out of the shower and towels his hair dry before wrapping it around his waist and grabbing the bottle of lotion. He pumps a few squirts out and begins liberally applying it. Even though they’re in Jersey, putting lotion on immediately after showering has been ingrained into him from the living in the dry climate of the desert for so long. It’s a 97% natural lotion that he picked up back in Vegas, a splurge well deserved to keep his fair skin protected and soft.

 

“Dude—” Brendon comes charging into the bathroom without knocking, like he always does, and Spencer turns to shoo him away. Brendon stops dead in his tracks, looking at Spencer’s lotion-covered hands, semi-nude state and shower-flushed complexion. “Whoa—Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, I mean—”

 

“Just putting on some lotion, you don’t have to freak out.”

 

“If that’s what you call it,” Brendon says, nodding at the issue of  _Cosmo_  that fell off of the sink to a picture of an overly-bronzed starlet in a bikini.

 

“It’s not what you think.”

 

”Then what is all over your hands?”

 

”Lotion.” At Brendon’s still quirked eyebrow, Spencer adds, “Jesus, it’s that natural shit that you’ve been lusting after since you saw the ad in  _Seventeen_.”

 

“Oh my god, it looks like—”

 

“Yes, I know what it looks like. But it smells like mangos.”

 

”Ooh, can I borrow some?”

 

“After I’m done getting dressed. Get out of here!”

 

~

 

Bob and Ray have decided to hold their wedding on their original anniversary (their first date). “It's so we don't have to remember more than just then,” Bob explains gruffly, but he fools no one, especially with Greta roaming the town declaring how romantic it is that he suggested it. (He loses even more face when he blushes tomato red, and Ray's mother smiles knowingly.)

 

Bob bakes the cake a couple of days before the actual wedding, giving him a longer time to complete it, and in theory, continue baking for the bakery. Instead, Bob slaves over decorating it, perfecting each angles and detail, leaving his assistants to do almost all of the baking for the daily pastries. If anyone notices the decline in quality, they don't say anything, as they can see Bob in the back, decorating. He puts the final detail on the cake before Frank drags him off to his ridiculous double-bachelor party, complete with female strippers (as most of their friends are straight).

 

Gerard luckily avoids the strippers, what with Trish eyeing him from across the dance floor, and his unexplainable fear of sequins. Besides, the last time Gerard even looked at a stripper, he practically ran to the clinic to get tested for STDs.

 

Bob is, however, not as fortunate, as Frank shouts, “The groom is over here!” and the beady-eyed blonde dressed as a cowgirl gives him a lap dance. Ray watches with an amused grin, until Ian, his employee (and former student), hoists the cheerleader onto him. 

 

“My girlfriend would kill me, dude!” Ian says, by way of apology, and Greta smiles, bright and innocent as she elbows him in the ribs. “Ouch, what was that for?” he asks, rubbing his side.

 

“You had to think about it,” she grins up at him, and all is forgiven. Meanwhile, Bob very politely hands the cowgirl a twenty (as she is done with her “wild ride”) and laughs at the look of outright horror on Ray's face. (Although some part of him, mostly the jealous caveman that Ray always teases him about, is happy that even Ray's hair looks scandalized.)

 

~

 

Bob wakes up on the morning of his wedding, face-down on the bed. He reaches over for Ray, and when all he feels is blankets, he looks up. Ray is obviously not there, and Bob is not in his own bed. He looks around, and notices that he is in a very swanky looking hotel room. For one bewildered moment, he wonders  _What the fuck is going on_ ? but remembers everything with a resounding  _oh_.

 

These are the last few hours of Robert Nathaniel Corey Bryar being a free man. Well, he wasn’t per se  _free_  before this; he was still ridiculously committed to Ray, but still. Marriage and all its implications are a whole different ballgame. He groans into his pillow, thinks,  _Why couldn’t we just elope?,_  but then sees all the faces of their friends and family in his mind’s eye, and stops. It’s been a while in this town since anything big has actually happened, and everyone has been excited about it since the moment Ray proposed.  The final face he sees is Ray’s, and Bob is filled with an overwhelming sense of pride.

 

Today he gets to mark Ray as  _his_ , and only his forever. It’s been five long years for them to get to this point, and eloping would make him seem ashamed of his love. Getting married in a nice, medium-sized ceremony will not only be a celebration, but a manifestation how much they truly love each other.

 

On the other hand, Bob will suddenly gain a lot more troubles and responsibilities. No more sleeping on Frank’s couch when the fighting gets really bad or going to parties without at least notifying the other. It’s been some time since things were like that; their life in the house they bought together slowly putting a damper on anything truly unruly. The fact that it could be that way if they wanted it to be is gone now, binding Bob and his future husband together for the rest of their lives. Seeing Ray’s shining face at the end of the aisle, and for the rest of the mornings to come will be well worth it though.

 

Bob gets off of the bed, and showers before grabbing his suit and getting ready for his big day.

 

~

 

Spencer wakes up on Bob’s wedding day with Brendon wrapped tight around him, naked limbs sticking together and Brendon’s face pressed against his collarbone. He breathes in deeply, catching the faint traces of soap and sex, before remembering the day. He’d really love to stay here like this with Brendon forever, but before he can mull over the thought, Brendon’s eyes crack open.

 

“Hey, gorgeous,” Spencer hears himself saying, and Brendon grins before planting kisses up Spencer’s jaw to his mouth. “Mmph!” he exclaims, and tries to push Brendon away, but fails. When Spencer begins to slip his tongue into Brendon’s mouth, Brendon pulls away, leaving Spencer grumbling.

 

“Bob and Ray are getting married today!” he states brightly, sitting back against Spencer’s growing erection. “We have got a lot to do today!” Brendon reminds him, and lists off numerous activities before noticing that Spencer was just staring at his lips. “Well, first we’ll take care of this,” he squeals and dives back under the covers.

 

~

 

Trish is well known for being a heavy sleeper, but having a hundred-twenty pounds of boy  _bounce_  on her bed will wake her up. “Wake up! The wedding’s today!” Brendon chants as he jumps on the bed.

 

“Why don’t you go bug Spencer, maybe give him a blowjob or something?” she grumbles, half of her answer muffled by the pillow.

 

“We already did that this morning!” he chirps, and Trish wants to shoot something, preferably Brendon.

 

“Thanks for telling me,” she groans, but when she looks up, she sees Gerard. He’s passed out on the overstuffed chair next to her bed, notebook open on his knees, and pencil smudged on his cheek. A cup of more-than-likely cold coffee sits on the nightstand, and her stomach flips because she can barely make out a few sketches of her sleeping form.

 

“Whatcha lookin at?” Brendon asks, by this point getting bored enough to sit on the bed next to her, still bouncing, but slightly resigned. He catches where she’s looking and sighs. “That’s adorable but kinda creepy.”

 

Trish sputters but Gerard wakes up and gives her a sleepy smile, so her heart soars. “Hey, wassa— Brendon?”

 

“Yup! Come on, you two, Bob and Ray are getting  _married_  today!” Brendon chirps and Trish rubs her face with one hand. Spencer rushes into the doorway, looking harried already.

 

“Have you seen—Brendon? What are you doing here?”

 

“Waking up the lovebirds, like you told me to!” Brendon grins widely and Spencer blinks a few times before remembering how to speak.

 

“I told you to make coffee so I could wake them up,” he sighs, but Brendon just pouts at him. “Okay, Trish and Gerard, you need to get dressed. Trish, when you’re done, will you help with set-up? Gerard once you’ve  _showered_  you can greet the guests. And Brendon, you come with me.” Spencer flips his hair dramatically and storms out of the room, Brendon bouncing after him. Trish can hear them giggle and then a loud smacking of lips before she turns to Gerard, who is still blinking in confusion.

 

~

 

The few hours before the actual ceremony are hectic, with Spencer flitting about, ordering people, flowers and food to be moved.

 

His complete takeover of the wedding prep is a complete surprise to everyone except Trish and Brendon. Trish is busy commanding the decoration and completely understands the urge for control (“Our mother was just like this,” Bob explains to Ray’s curious family.) Brendon isn’t shocked, because Spencer was always organizing the best parties and such back in Vegas. He just pats Spencer’s back and makes sure he gets enough food and water.

 

Frank is impressed by Spencer’s organizational skills and wants to sign him as some sort of manager or event planner for his label, but Spencer still holds the whole “two sisters” comment against him.

 

Several times Mikey tries to approach him about reconsidering, but no one can stop the whirlwind that is Spencer Smith while he is in charge. (Brendon tells Mikey to wait until the next day, when Spencer is drained from his efforts.)

 

Eventually everything is in place, and the guests are all seated in neat rows of white chairs in a corner of the backyard. Spencer and Trish walk out first, followed by Bob and the minister. Next comes Frank and Gerard. Brendon hums the bridal march but Spencer’s glare silences it. Bob and Ray hold hands underneath a flower-filled canopy, while the (very open-minded) minister makes a grand speech about love and devotion. Bob and Ray have decided to light candle as part of the ceremony, and Ray’s mother begins to tear up from the front row. By the time they exchange vows and rings, there isn’t a single dry eye in the yard. They kiss amongst the hoots of their friends and family.

 

~

 

Bob and Ray are dancing their first dance as a married couple, to something classic that Ray’s mother picked out. They sway gently to the soft Latin rhythm, their heads bent together in a conspiratorial pose. “I love you so much, Ray. You have no idea,” Bob whispers, and Ray grins.

 

”I think I have some idea,” is his response, as he casts a casual glance at the gold band on his left hand.

 

“I want to get married every day,” Bob says, and Ray makes a face. “Okay, maybe not. But this,” he holds up his left hand, “this is pretty much the same thing.” Ray chuckles into his shoulder.

 

~

 

“I would like to make a speech!” Gerard says, standing on the small stage set up earlier that day. Frank makes a whooping noise, and gets a glare from all three of the Bryar siblings (as everyone is calling them now). “It was many years ago,” he starts, but someone else interrupts.

 

”Not too many! Just eight years!”

 

“Well, eight years ago, a burly Viking showed up on my doorstep, claiming that my great-aunt Nora sent him. We had no space for him, so my good friend decided to take him in. Here we are, eight years later and that nerdy friend and that scary Viking are married! Personally, I think it was love at first sight for them. Even if they didn’t admit it until they moved in together and adopted two dogs. Here’s to Bob and Ray!” Gerard cheers, and everyone taps their forks against their glasses. Bob sweeps Ray into the first of many kisses that night.

 

~

 

Brendon is very,  _very_  drunk, and Trish watches him stumble around Bob and Ray’s backyard. He knocks over a decoration that took her  _hours_  to put up, so Trish can’t help but wince. Brendon shouts something in slurry, drunken Spanish at Ray’s poor old grandmother, and Trish walks over to intervene.

 

He’s saying something about “Iraq” and health care, from the snippets she can hear. (It’s not her fault she can’t understand most of it, she took French in high school.) The elderly woman just looks bewildered at him, and shakes her grey head, as if to say “no”. Trish opens her mouth, but of nowhere, Spencer appears.

 

“You know that grandmother is Portuguese, right?” he says, and flashes a quick grin at Trish.

 

“No, but that explains why she didn’t want to debate with me on the war in -hic- Iraq.” Brendon says, his mouth fixed in a permanent smile. “¡Adios!” he calls as Spencer drags him away to an unlit part of the yard. Ray’s grandmother just smiles at the boys, and sips at her glass of champagne.

 

Trish decides to go find Gerard and a cup of sparkling cider to share with him. This is going to be a  _long_  night.

 

~

 

Eventually, the grooms leave in a limo to a fancy hotel in a larger town nearby. People throw rice and blow bubbles, and most of them are so hammered they forget to uncap the bottles and throw the entire thing.

 

Ray and Bob exit laughing and smiling, and even though it’s very dark, Bob can swear Ray is shining.

 

Trish and Gerard help pick up the worst of the trash – they know it’ll be so much worse to do in the morning, so they’ll do what they can now. Afterwards, they quietly walk up to Trish’s room, and fall asleep fully clothed on top of the blankets.

 

After Spencer puts a slightly more sober Brendon to bed, he helps corral people into their cars, on couches, or over to Bob’s very kind neighbor’s home. Her house has five bedrooms, and since she lives alone, she offered to let some of the worst-off people sleep in her spare rooms. He collapses onto the bed next to his boyfriend, who is mumbling the lyrics to “Can You Feel the Love Tonight”. Spencer grins and passes out in a dead sleep.

 

~

 

Bob and Ray stumble out of the elevator toward their hotel room, more drunk off of each other than the champagne they’d imbibed in at the reception. Ray’s kisses throughout the night had made Bob rather desperate, and the kiss at the door of their hotel room is not making the situation any better.

 

“Fuck,” Bob groans when Ray nips at his lip, and fumbles with the key before opening it and being pushed into the room. Luckily the hotel had the foresight to stock their bridal suite with plenty of easy-to-find lube, and Bob almost sighs in relief when he sees the small bottle in Ray’s hands. “Fuck me,” he growls.

 

“With pleasure.” Ray smirks, and it doesn’t feel the slightest bit cheesy because, what the hell, it’s their wedding night.

 

~

 

Gee wakes Trish up with a sad look on his face, puppy-dog eyes in full force. “What’s wrong?” she asks, and Gerard makes a high-pitched noise, looking pained.

 

“You’re going back to Chicago today,” he says, and she nods.

 

“So? What’s the problem?”

 

“You don’t know what the problem is?” he asks, and turns.

 

“No, I don’t.”

 

“I can’t believe you!” he exclaims, and storms off. Trish rolls her eyes, and gets out of bed. She mulls over the conversation while she gets ready, and doesn’t fully understand the issue. Then, as she is tugging her shirt back on over her head, it hits her. Gerard doesn’t want her to leave.

 

She gets downstairs as fast as she can, where Gerard is laying his head on the table, staring at a box of Cheerios. She carefully sits next to him, and he scoots away, but she scoots closer. This happens until they reach the end of the table, the two chairs awkwardly bunched into the corner.

 

“Gerard, when I go—” she starts, but he turns his head. Trish continues, even though she isn’t 100% sure he is even listening to her. “It’s not like we’re not going to talk! I’ll keep in touch as often as I can, and come for visits and-”

 

Gerard finishes her sentence with, “—and find some better-looking guy in Chicago that’s normal and can paint better than me and fall madly in love with him and  _break my heart_.”

 

“No, Gee, I wouldn’t do that-”

 

“You would. And he’d shower regularly and you’d have lots and lots of babies and live in my Auntie Nora’s old house and-”

 

“I would be so bored if that were the case, Gee. I want  _you_  and—”

 

They abruptly stop speaking when they hear a quiet noise from the end of the kitchen.

 

~

 

 

 

Spencer wakes up, bright and early, like he always does, and watches Brendon sleep for a few minutes before getting up. He showers and gets dressed, then quietly makes his way downstairs to the kitchen. Trish and Gerard are arguing in hushed tones until they see Spencer, and then they shut up quickly, leaving an awkward silence buzzing about the room. Spencer rummages through the cupboards, looking for a bowl, and he can feel the pointed looks his sister and her boyf—whatever Gerard is to her are giving each other.

 

“So how did the cleanup go? If it’s even gone on at all?” Spencer asks once he settles at the table with a bowl of Raisin Bran.

 

“Well, since most of the people in town got completely trashed last night, we’re thinking of doing it a little later. Like, after everyone catches their flights,” Trish answers. Gerard tenses up at the last part of the sentence, and Spencer can tell what’s going on. Trish is going back to Chicago today, and neither Gerard nor Trish look too happy about it.

 

“Well, I guess you should probably help take down the big stuff, because it’s due at 6 p.m. Spencer looks at the clock hanging above Gerard’s head, and notes that it’s 8 a.m. Once he finishes his cereal, tension still so thick it could be cut with one of Bob’s fancy cooking school knives, he gets up.

 

“I probably should wake Brendon up. He needs to pack so we can leave.” Immediately, he realizes his mistake, but just winces as Trish opens her mouth, and turns around. If he knew how to fix other people’s issues, he’d have a degree in it or something.

 

Brendon is still sleeping when Spencer gets back to their room. He smiles in his sleep before Spencer wakes him, and when Brendon’s eyes open, he says, “Good morning.”

 

Brendon blinks sleepily before replying, “G’morning, Mr. Knight, have you come to rescue me from the dragon?”

 

“Maybe I  _am_  the dragon!” Spencer exclaims, and then tickles Brendon’s sides, peppering his face with kisses.

 

”Okay, okay, I give up, you are the dragon!” Brendon grins, and then kisses him, slow and sweet. Something stirs in his stomach, but he pushes it away when they break apart.

 

“We don’t have time for that. You haven’t gotten ready, and we need to leave for the airport by noon.” Brendon groans, but complies with what Spencer tells him to do.

 

“We’re joining the mile high club now, I hope you know!” Brendon tells Spencer before hopping into the shower. Spencer flushes, but shakes his head and starts packing.

 

~

 

When Bob wakes up the next day, he realizes that he is now a married man. Ray snuggles in closer for a few more minutes, but Bob looks at the clock, and notices their plane is leaving in a few hours. Luckily, he’d had the common sense to pack ahead of time so their first full day as a married couple could be spent lounging and basking in the togetherness of their newly matrimonial state before they jetted off to Fiji, first class.

 

He gently shakes Ray awake, but his husband just rolls over. “Hey, sleepyhead, we have to be at the airport at 3,” Bob whispers, and Ray groans. “Come on, let’s take a shower. I’ll make it worth your while.” Ray stiffens, and looks up at Bob.

 

“Really?”

 

”Yeah, really.”

 

“All right then, let’s go.” And with that, Ray springs out of bed and into the bathroom of the ritzy bridal suite they’d rented.

 

~

 

“What took you so long to get here?” Spencer asks when Ray and Bob finally pull up in front of their own house. Bob helps Brendon and Spencer put their belongings in the trunk of Ray’s car while Ray shows Gerard where the list of things to do, and the dog food is stored.

 

“Why are you doing this? I know where everything is.” Gerard asks Ray during the tour.

 

“It’s just a little reminder. You know how you forget,” Ray answers, and Gerard turns a bright pink. Trish watches this amusedly and Gerard beams at her before remembering he is supposed to be mad at her. He turns around, and she makes a decision on the spot.

 

When Bob goes to get her bags, she puts her hands on his, to stop him.

 

“What are you doing?” he questions, confused.

 

“I’m going to cancel my flight,” Trish replies, loudly enough so Gerard can hear. “I want to stay and help watch the house. I’m a bit worried about Dixie’s mental health.” Gerard quietly slips by her side, lacing his fingers with hers.

 

“I’m glad,” he tells her, and Bob has to look away for a moment, because it’s his sister and the man he’s considered a brother for the last eight years. Then Brendon starts cooing, and asks if they’re going to have to return for another wedding in a couple of months. Both Gerard and Trish blush, but Spencer glares at Brendon to make him stop. He does, and Ray laughs, grin spreading wide across his face. Bob thinks it’s the most beautiful sound in the world, and tells him so. Brendon opens his mouth again, but Spencer shushes him.

 

“You can tease us all you want, we’re married,” Bob says, and slings an arm around his husband.

 

“Have fun, you guys!” Gerard says, swinging his and Trish’s hands.

 

“Don’t forget to put on sunscreen in Fiji, especially you, Bob. Our Norse ancestors were meant to sail the northern seas, not the tropical ones,” Trish adds.

 

“But be sure to send pictures if you end up looking like a lobster!” Gerard adds, eyes twinkling.

 

“We’ll miss you!” Ray says, and waves.

 

Bob, Ray, Brendon and Spencer all pile into the car, waving at Trish and Gerard as they leave. “Hey, Bob?” Spencer asks, once they’ve gotten onto the highway.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Do you think I could come here for college or something? You guys are awful close to the city, and it’d be cool to come visit you guys if I went to NYU or something.”

 

“That sounds—” Bob starts but Brendon cuts him off.

 

“Spencer Smith, we will talk about this later.”

 

“Anything you say, honey,” Spencer says, and Brendon rests his head on Spencer’s shoulder.

 

Ray and Bob, who have been watching them in the rearview mirror, just smile at each other. “I love you,” Ray mouths as he links hands with his husband.

 

THE END.

**Author's Note:**

> [Original Masterpost](http://alsointogiraffe.livejournal.com/16651.html)  
> [Art](http://alsointogiraffe.livejournal.com/16214.html) by amkave  
> [Fanmix](http://alsointogiraffe.livejournal.com/16589.html) by x_snowcone


End file.
